Is This Really Wonderland?
by VincentValentine13
Summary: Victor Liddell just wanted to visit his cousin in her bedlam. However, this was not the simple trip he thought it would be. After all, he should have known that his cousin's insanity had to come from somewhere. Read & Review PLEASE!
1. Down The Rabbit Hole

Well, this is another Alice story. Actually, I'm debating on which one I should write. It all depends on which one gets the most reviews. I'll be adding one more American McGee story, so tell me which one you like best, and I'll go from there!

I don't own American McGee's Alice, nor Wonderland. I do, however, own Victor, though not the name Liddell!

* * *

" But mum, father! You know how much hospitals give me the chills! Can't you imagine what bedlam would do to me?"

This was the argument that Victor Liddell had presented his parents when they said he would be going to see his cousin, Alice, in the Whittington Psychological Ward. Victor was, as any cousin would have been, to learn that Alice had lost her family in a fire, but when his parents told him that she had become mentally unsound, he started to feel disturbed. He and Alice had been good friends when they were younger, playing games and reading stories; all the typical things a child would do. Perhaps it was the thought of seeing her in a coma was what frightened him about going to see her. Not only that, but he would be going by himself, because his parent would be busy with work, and just couldn't get away. It had been a while since her parents had passed, and the doctors had told Victor's parents that her condition had never grown any better, but slowly worse. They though that perhaps a visit from a friend would help her, so that was how Victor was chosen.

As he rode in the carriage to the Ward, Victor's mind wandered through the many things he knew about Alice before the fire that claimed her life and sanity. She never had very many friends, mostly because people thought she had gone mad when she was a child, and wanted nothing to do with her. She had suffered from what the adults called "hallucinations" when she was only seven; though Victor personally believed they were simply dreams. Still, it was whispered that Alice's mind was deteriorating, and that her parents simply were in denial for not putting her in a ward. Now that her parents were gone, Victor's own parents placed Alice in Whittington, in the hopes that she would be safe. This ended up not being the case.

The carriage stopped in front of the stark, stone building that was Whittington Psycological Ward, and Victor stepped out, being sure to brush off his pants so there weren't any wrinkles, and took his luggage down from the box behind the driver. After paying the man, he walked towards the doors, his stomach churning over what sights he may see through the metal, windowless doors.

The building itself had very few windows at all, but through even the closed ones, Victor could hear the cries of patients, the insane shrieks, mad sobs, and insane laughter of the residents. They all chilled Victor's bones, but he walked as resolutely as he could through the doors. Inside, he was greeted by Doctor Burton, the man in charge of Alice's case. He explained that Alice was stable, but required some kind of contact with another human.

"But, if she is in a coma, how can human contact help her?" Victor asked as he watched a nurse help a raving man down the hall.

"It's the only solution we have left for her," the doctor replied. At that moment, the raving man the nurse had been assisting came running back down the dim hall, grabbed another patient, and began to shake him with great force. Victor stepped back, horrified, but the doctor merely rushed to the two men, and with the help of other doctors, pried the lunatic away and stuck a syringe into the man that a nurse had brought. The man calmed almost immediately, and slumped onto the floor, a disturbing smile on his face.

"Well now," Doctor Burton said, coming back as another doctor helped a nurse with the man, "Shall we go see your cousin?"

"May I ask, doctor," Victor said, looking nervously around the hall they walked down, "Is Alice….is she violent, like that man?"

Doctor Burton took a deep sigh, then replied, "Only every now and then. Most of the time, she is quite silent, and never spends time out of her room. Every now and then, though, she goes into a fit of rage, and must be sedated before she'll calm down again."

Victor remained silent after that. It upset him to hear his dear cousin was mad, like that patient in the hall. Still, it didn't seem to be too much of a surprise. He had always guessed that rage was a part of being insane. After aall, why would they call it "going mad"?

Victor looked at the dismal state the ward was in. The lighting overhead was dim, the floors and walls were dingy, and the wholle place smelled of chemicals and uncleanliness. Over all, the place was as disturbing as the patients, and Victor wanted nothing more then to run out the door and go back home. Still, it was for Alice's sake that he was making this trip, so the least he could do was see her once before running out of the building in a panic.

After what seemed like hours, Doctor Burton stopped in front of a door. The numbers on it seemed to have been scratched out, so Victor couldn't read them. Doctor Burton took out a set of keys and unlocked the door, then knocked gently. Victor couldn't be certain, but he thought he heard a small voice say quietly, "Come in," but it was so still and weak, that he wasn't sure. Doctor Burton gave Victor a "prepare yourself" look, and pushed the door open.

A dreadful sight met Victor's eyes. There, her knees clutched tightly to her chest, her hair an unclean and disheveled mess, sat Alice. She was gazing at the door with empty, green eyes. They reminded Victor of dog eyes, for there was almost no life in them at all. Alice's skin was a sickly palour, and she was as skinny as match sticks.

"Alice, you have a visitor today," Doctor Burton said gently. Alice didn't respond, but continued to look at Victor with those same, dead eyes. "It's your cousin, Victor. He's come all the way from Buckinghamshire to see you. Be sure to be on your best behavior." Doctor Burton said all these things in a very slow manner, and it reminded Victor of how a parent would speak to a young child, to be sure they understood. "Go on and greet you cousin, Victor."

Victor stepped forward hesitantly, unsure of what to say. He had never dreamed that anyone he knew would end up like this. His own green eyes looked into Alice's, but found he couldn't for long, and decided to look at her nose instead.

"H-hello, Alice," he said cautiously, and Alice responded with nothing more then a slight sigh.

"I shall leave you alone," Doctor Burton said, turning to leave. "A nurse will be just outside if you need anything, or you see any sort of change."

"Thank you," Victor nodded as Doctor Burton walked out the door. He looked around the room, trying to get a feel for what Alice had to deal with day in and day out.

The room was a small square, with bare, gray walls, and a single window next to the bed. The bed itself look as though it was lumpy, and hardly comfortable to sleep on, but Alice hardly seemed to notice. A small, metal chair was positioned next to the bed, in front of a table, probably for the doctor to take notes on. Victor placed his bag on the table, and sat down slowly on the chair, keeping his feet together and his hands on his lap.

"So, um, ar you doing well here?" Victor asked softly, unsure of what else to say. He never imagined he would speak with a mad person, and his parents had told him to not treat her any differently then he would any other person he would visit, so he decided to give the proper questions as a form of conversation.

Alice did not answer, so Victor just sighed and looked around the room again. "No, I suppose you aren't doing well at all. But that is to be expected after all." A long silence pervaded the room, and Alice's eyes seemed to look at Victor with a certain degree of accusation. The silence was terribly uncomforatble, so Victor felt that maybe so reminiscing would help.

"Do you remember when we were younger? How we used to play all sorts of games? Oh, the hours we spent cricket, or chess, and croquet when it was really nice out…" Alice's eyes narrowed on the word croquet, and it made Victor's stomach tighten. "Okay, so maybe we didn't play that game too much, and I remember that you were never very fond of it. Still, we did have some good times over the old chess board, didn't we?"

Alice glared at this, and Victor almost jumped up from his chair. It seemed Alice didn't like to talk about games, so he changed the subject.

"Well, we did have lots of fun, didn't we? Remember how we would talk about the silly grown-up matters? Like boring books? I still don't like one's with no conversations, though I can read a book with no pictures."

Alice appeared to calm down again, so Victor continued. "Speaking of books, I have met the most interesting man. He came to visit mother and father not too long ago, a Mr. Lewis Carroll. Yes, he was very polite, but I didn't listen too much. They talked about things concerning the church and government, so I grew bored and left. Still, before they grew dull, Mr. Carroll spoke of his interest in writing children's literature. My father thought it was balderdash, to try and write something for children to read, but mother liked the idea. That was when you ended up in the conversation. They talked about, you, and Mr. Carroll had mentioned that he had been to see you."

Alice, who had been resting her head on her knees this whole time, lifted her head slightly, and her eyes showed a faint interest. This seemed good to Victor, so he went on. "Yes, he talked about how he had written down everything you had told him, about Wonderland and all. My father said it was all rubbish, the ravings of a silly person." Victor decided to conceal what his father had really called Alice, and continued. "Anyway, Mr. Carroll said that it may have seemed like nonsense, but that that was what he liked about it. He wanted to publish what he had written, but said that he would give the very first copy to you."

Victor looked into his bag and pulled out a simple book, a hard, green cover and white pages showing the newness of the text. "This is it. It's actually two pieces. He put them together. They're called, Alice in Wonderland, and Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There. The titles are rather straight forward, aren't they?"

Alice's eyes just narrowed again, and Victor cleared his throat. "I remember what you told me about Wonderland. I think I liked the Cheshire Cat best. He seemed to be the most sensible to me. The thought of an endless tea party also seemed fun. Do you remember how we would play pretend Wonderland? You were always yourself, and I would be the others? I never much cared for playing the Duchess, but at least she had a small role. You always did have such a fantastic imagination, Alice."

Alice didn't respond, but simply laid down and placed her head on the flat pillow. Her eyes remain open, and she stared blankly at the ceiling. After another uncomfortable silence, Victor looked down at the book in his hand.

"I have not read this yet…shall I read some to you? Then we can see how well he wrote Wonderland." Alice didn't make any movement, and the only sound in the room was her's and Victor's breathing as it echoed off the walls. "I'll take that as a yes," Victor nodded, still nervous about how his cousin may react. Although the doctor had told Victor's parents that Alice had raved about Wonderland, and that these fantasies may have been the cause of her mental instability, Victor felt that perhaps, since it was going to be a children's story, it may do some good to take Alice into a happier place, or at least a less stark land.

"Alice was beginning to get very tired…" Victor began. The story was very well written, even for a children's story, and it looked like the real Alice was paying attention to the story; at least, it looked that way. All the way up to the Cheshire Cat, Alice seemed to listen. She lay on her side, her head still on her pillow, and her eyes still blank, as if she were far away, but listening all the same. However, when he reached the part about the Queen of Hearts, Alice took on a profound change. She clutched at her pillow, and looked like she was trying to rip it apart. Victor was startled out of his reading by this, and immediately closed the book. Alice continued to act violently, and Victor was at a loss at what he should do. He remembered that the nurse was outside, but then recalled how they just gave a shot of something to the lunatic in the hall, and decided to try and stop her himself. She may have scared him, but she was still his cousin.

"Alice," Victor said gently, trying to do as the doctors had done with the man, "It's alright, it's alright. Just try and calm down. We don't have to read anymore." He reached out to her, his hands open, trying to touch her shoulder reassuringly. Alice just swung her pillow at him, and seemed to growl slightly. Victor jerked his hand back, and looked into Alice's eyes. The girl seemed to be screaming in her eyes. They burned with anger, fear, hatred and so many other emotions running in her once dead eyes that Victor almost wished they would go back to their emotionless state.

"Alice, please, it's alright. Please, calm down, I don't want to call those nasty nurses in here. If you make me, though, I will, so please just calm down. It don't want them to give you any of those wretched shots, so please just stop!"

This seemed to get through the tantrum, and Alice stopped for a moment. Quite suddenly, she flopped down on the bed and fell asleep. Victor was breathing faster then usual as he watched his cousin's tantrum end. He moved his hand slowly and touched her shoulder gently, very lightly, not wanting to wake her. She didn't stir, and Victor sighed heavily. It was awful seeing the girl whom he had played with when they were young in such a state, but he knew that it was true. At first, he didn't quite believe it, but now that he had seen a small fit of rage, Victor knew that it was undeniable.

Victor spent the remainder of the day with his cousin. She slept the whole time, and Victor contented himself with reading the rest of Mr. Carroll's book. He must have read right through tea and supper, for he had gotten to the Ward late in the afternoon anyway. The sun was setting as he began to dose, and just as he finished reading about The Walrus and the Carpenter, he fell asleep.

* * *

Victor jerked awake, the sound of creaking filling the room. He looked around to see that the room was empty and very dark, with only the light of the half-moon bleeding through the window. Victor stretched and looked around, because the creaking noise continued. He noticed the door was opening slowly, and Victor rose up as Doctor Burton came in.

"Just came to check on you," he said quietly. Victor noticed he was holding something in his hand, and as he stepped into the light from the window, Victor saw it was a ragged, stuffed bunny.

"I brought this," Doctor Burton said, indicating the stuffed rabbit, "It was Alice's when she was a girl. I thought it may help her. Has she done anything out of the ordinary?"

Victor wanted to say that her being here at all was out of the ordinary, but then, he knew the doctor was referring to her typical, blank stare.

"No," Victor lied, "Nothing strange. She fell asleep a little while ago, while I was reading to her."

"Very well," the doctor replied as he placed the bunny next to Alice's head. Alice awoke for a moment, looked at the rabbit, then clutched it slightly and pulled it to her side before falling asleep again.

Doctor Burton didn't say a word as he turned to go, but stopped at the door and asked, "Will you be coming along now, Victor? We have a room set up for you at a little place down the street."

"No, I'll stay with her a little longer," Victor answered. For some reason, seeing her asleep with the moonlight on her pale, thin face, she didn't seem to be quite as frightening as before, and Victor didn't think he could leave her now. Doctor Burton nodded and said, "As you wish," and started to leave. Then he stopped and turned back around. "Here," he said, handing a key to Victor. "This is a copy of the key for the room. A good deal of the patients are locked up for the night, but sometimes we have a problem with attendents not shutting the door properly. The patients like to take advantage of this sometime. Be sure to lock the door when you leave." Victor nodded, not understanding where the man's trust for a young person came from, but decided that it was fine either way. As Victor took the key, the doctor turned and walked through the door, closing it behind him.

Once again, the room was completely dark, with no light from the hall to brighten it. Victor looked down at Alice again, and settled back in the chair, preparing to fall asleep again. He closed his eyes, but heard the door open again. He rolled his eyes as he stood up.

"What is wrong, Doctor Burton?" he asked as he turned around, but didn't see anyone in the dark hallway, just beyond the open door. Shaking his head, and mumbling about the doctor not knowing how to shut a door, he closed the door and sat back down. Just as he did, the door opened again, this time very slowly, and the creaking sound it made sounded more like a scream then a creak. Victor looked to Alice to see if the sound had awoken her, but she hadn't stirred if she was awake, so he got up and tip-toed to th door again, this time, his breath quicker, and his heart beating a little faster then usual.

This time, he closed the door and locked it with the key Doctor Burton had given him. The lock worked on either side of the door, so he locked it, then tried to to open it. It wouldn't budge. Thoroughly pleased with his cleverness, he turned to sit down. The moment he turned, the door opened with a creak, and Victor felt himself shaking, his heart beating hard in his chest. He turned to see the door open fully, and suddenly a gust of wind blasted through the opening. It was cold, and chilled him deeply, but as soon as it started, it stopped, and Victor was panting as the peculiar wind ended.

Forgetting the door, he turned around to see if Alice was well, though he doubted that he himself was. When he looked to his cousin, he jumped, for Alice was sitting up straight, her rabbit held close to her, and her eyes wild with a fright.

"Alice! Alice! Are you alright?" He ran to her bedside and took her hand in his. As he did, she started to mumble something. He could barely understand her at first, but as she spoke, her voice grew louder and louder, each word seeming to have increased to a volume higher then the previous one. Victor would have been able to appreciate that these were the first words he had personally seen her speak, if he wasn't too terrified at the moment to think about it.

"They call me back to heal the land, and bleed the sickness from her veins. To sooth her wounds and hold her hand, until her mind is sane again. And then I'll sleep without the fear; no voices, shivers or attacks. And if my sleepworld's free of tears, I think, perhaps, I'll not come back!"

This last phrase was said with so much force, and was said so loudly, that Victor worried Alice was going beyond any form of madness she had before. She turned her eyes towards his, and he felt completely numb in her gaze. It was so terrifying, that he wanted to shut his eyes, but found that impossible. The wind had started again, this time as powerful as Alice's voice had been, and it whipped around the room with a terrifying ferocity. Alice's hair flew about wildly, and the rabbit that she clung to seemed almost alive. Its button eyes shone with a fire, and Victor started to back away from the pair. He stumbled against the wind, and tripped over the chair behind him. He couldn't even shout, he was so horrified by everything. The wind, the rantings of his cousin, the crazed look of her eyes, and then the stuffed rabbit. All of it was horribly overwhelming, but he couldn't close his eyes to escape it.

The door slammed close as he stumbled to it, and the wind died again. Victor, now probably as crazed as some of the patients turned when he heard bare feet step onto the cold floor. Alice was out of bed, and was walking towards him.

"Stay back!" Victor ordered, backed against the door as flat as he could. Alice ignored him, and continued to move forward. Suddenly, a voice called out from the bed, and both turned to see a small, white rabbit with a top hat, waist coat and pocket watch.

"Please don't dawdle, Alice," it cried, "We are very late indeed!"

Alice only nodded to him, then turned back to Victor. The look she gave him was perhaps the most terrible yet, for it a was a smile. A sweet, innocent, and yet wicked smile, and Victor wanted to scream. However, he quickly found he had another reason to, for, from under the bed, a large crack crawled across the floor towards him and Alice. It spread out like a serpent, and then split apart, until it had completely covered the floor, like a giant, black spider web.

Victor followed the crack's trip with his eyes, and when it stopped, he looked back at his cousin. For a single moment, she seemed to be just as confused as he was, but Victor saw this for only a moment, for with a terrible crashing sound that rose to a crescendo in a mere moment, the entire floor fell away, and the inky blackness below swallowed him, Alice, and the Rabbit up.

* * *

As he tumbled down the hole, screaming as he did, his hands stretched out for anything to stop his fall. The moonlight from above shone down the hole, and in its dim light, he saw things lining the hole. A broken cuckoo clock, book shelves, stoves and portraits, seem to hover about him as he fell. He looked around, above and below himself, and he couldn't see his cousin at all. The fall wasn't as fast as it started out as, and he seemed to descend into the darkness below very gently. It was very cold, and he rubbed his arms to ward off the goose bumps that climbed his arms.

"Now I understand what Alice meant about falling downstairs," he mumbled to himself, "I don't believe I'll think much of it either…"

He surprised himself, however, at how calm he had become. The whole situation in Alice's room now seemed so trivial and ridiculous that he felt as though it happened all the time. Still, the rabbit, which, now that he thought of it, was the White Rabbit, was more then a little unnerving. Then, as he considered it, he realized as well that he must be falling down the Rabbit Hole. As a child, he had wanted nothing more then to do this, to fall down, down, down into Wonderland. However, there was also the fact that he always saw Alice's tales as just that, tales. Day-dreams was all he heard when she told him about Wonderland, and the looking-glass, and never did he imagine that he would be falling down the rabbit-hole. But was Alice here with him? Where was she? Victor didn't know, but hoped that he would find out soon, for the light from above was becoming nothing more then a tiny speck. Soon, he was engulfed in darkness once again.

* * *

Victor had no idea how long he had fallen, if he had fallen asleep as he was falling, or if he was even alive. There was no way to know anything, and so it came as a sweet relief when he felt his feet touching something solid. Of course, as he had not been moving his feet very much during the fall, they had fallen asleep on him, and when he landed, they fell out from underneath of him. His face hit the ground, and he got a mouthful of dead grass for his trouble. He pushed himself up, a scowl on his face as he spat out the vile-tasting grass, and found himself face to face with a cat who had a huge, and somewhat frightening, grin across its face.

"The Cheshire Cat…" Victor whispered to himself. He recognized the smile, at least from what Alice had told him, but the rest of the cat certainly wasn't what he thought it should look like. It was tall, and rather emaciated, so much so that he could clearly see the cat's skeleton beneath its it ragged fur.

"You've grown mangy cat," Victor heard a young woman say, and he stood up and turned to see his cousin coming from behind him. Alice no longer had her dreadful look, for her hair was now nicely brushed, and framed her still pale, but not nearly as thin, face. Her green eyes seemed to have a bit more life in them, and instead of her dingy patient clothes, she had on her blue dress and starched white apron. Already, Victor was confused, by not only by his cousins change in appearance, but also by the fact that she spoke.

"And you've developed an attitude," the cat replied, "Still willing to learn I hope. Now then, who is this?" he asked, waving his paw towards Victor.

"V-Victor Liddell," Victor answered, "And may I say, this is somewhat of an honor for me."

"The honor isn't mutual," the cat replied, then turned back to Alice for an explanation.

"He is a cousin of mine," Alice replied, walking between Victor and the cat, "Now then, just where is that rabbit? He owes me an explanation for his rude wake-up call."

"I was only doing as I was told," the rabbit insisted, seeming to appear out of nowhere, "After all, you were the one who sent me, Cheshire."

Victor listened to the bickering, and found that he was very confused indeed.


	2. Separation Anxiety

Well, here's the next chapter. I realize that some of the content may be off, it terms of names, or what happens when, but then again, I am almost relying completely on research here. Hope you all enjoy it, and remember to read and review!

* * *

"So, you're saying that the Queen of Hearts has conquered all of Wonderland?" Victor asked, in an attempt to straighten out the information he had been told. Evidently, after Alice left, and the fire burned down her home, the Queen took advantage of the mental break-down of Alice's mind, and used the confusion as a way to launch a full-on war.

"That is correct," Rabbit answered nervously, as if just talking about would bring her down upon them, "And many who were once friendly were no longer so."

"Is not out situation dismal?" the Cheshire Cat asked, his smile still present, yet somehow very bitter, "Wonderland has become so discombobulated in your absence, Alice, that even the ladybugs have joined the Queen. You must punish them for their conversion…"

This last statement was said so coolly that Victor was suddenly frightened of the cat. Not to say he wasn't before, for the feline was much more disturbing in person then what Alice had told Victor he was before. Still, the cat seemed to have all knowledge of the situation, even if he didn't seem to like Victor in the least.

"So, what exactly do you want us to do about it? Wage war with her majesty?" Victor asked, starting to figure out where this was going.

"Don't call her that," the cat snapped.

"Oh, don't be so nasty, Cheshire," Alice rebuked the cat, "After all, this is his first time here."

"He wouldn't be here at all if Rabbit had been more cautious. Honestly, for one who goes back and forth between the two worlds so often, one would think you would have learned to watch who was following you…"

"I was running late, cat! I didn't have much time to consider-"

"As wonderfully interesting as this conversation is," Alice interrupted, "And as much as I would love to hear you bicker, we really must be moving along."

"Yes," Victor nodded, "I'm not too sure I like it here. It really is quite dreadful."

The Cheshire Cat only narrowed his eyes at the young man, before turning to Rabbit. "While Alice is right, we still need to see if she is ready to handle the challenges ahead."

"I'm more then ready!" Alice growled, stamping her foot slightly, "And I think I'm a better judge of myself then you are, cat!"

"I beg to differ, girl," the cat replied coolly, "So, Rabbit shall lead you to your test. If you pass, then you shall prove you are ready to save Wonderland."

"This is absolutely pointless," Alice mumbled as Rabbit nodded.

"Come along, Alice, we're running very late!" He glanced down at his pocket watch, and his bulbous eyes grew wide. He let out a little squeak and rushed off down the path and into a tunnel. "Oh my, oh my, we're later then I thought! No time, no time, we must hurry!"

"Now, before you go, I have a gift for you, Alice," the Cheshire Cat said, his grin becoming less serious, and more wicked. He waved his paw, and in front of Alice's feet there appeared a knife. It was long, and looked very sharp. The blade was incredibly polished, and reflected Alice's face as she picked it up. Victor, who had been watching in silence for fear of another berating from the Cheshire Cat, saw a twinkle in his cousin's eyes. It matched that of the Cheshire Cat's; the same, violent glint that seemed to hold steadily in the feline's gaze.

"Use this, the Vorpal Blade, to fend off the terrors of the Queen of Hearts," the Cheshire Cat instructed, as he began to fade away into thin air. As he did, Victor felt panic creeping through him. It was all well and good that Alice had a form of defense, but what about himself?

"Excuse me, Mr. Cheshire Cat," Victor called after the disappearing grin, "But what about me?"

"What about you?" the grin without a cat asked.

"Well, Alice may have a weapon, but what of myself? How am I to protect myself?"

The cat seemed to ignore the question, but a quick glare from Alice gave him reason enough to respond. "Consider that your test, my boy," the cat replied, before vanishing completely.

Victor looked at the air where the cat had vanished with a stunned silence. So what, did the cat just not like him and want him to die? And what exactly was there that was so dangerous in Wonderland, it required the use of knives to fend it off?

"Well, I suppose that is our cue to begin, Victor," Alice said, walking past him towards the tunnel the Rabbit had gone in. Victor stood there for a second more before running to catch up.

"Alice! Wait! I don't understand!" he called as he got beside her, walking in step with his cousin.

"Of course you don't," Alice replied, "This is Wonderland, after all…"

"Are you sure?" Victor asked, looking around. On either side of the entrance of the tunnel, there were two, large trees. Their branches were bare, and so twisted that it looked like they were trying to strangle themselves. Around their bases, tiny, black-capped mushrooms squatted, adding to the dead and rotting atmosphere.

"How do you mean?" Alice asked, looking to her cousin.

"Well, this certainly doesn't seem like the place we, I mean you, went to when you were younger. The place you told me about was, or at least seemed, to be nicer then this."

Alice walked into the tunnel in silence, and Victor followed, his eyes trained on her, waiting for an answer. One never came, however, for at that moment, a cry echoed horribly through the tunnel.

"What, in heaven's name was that!" Victor asked, after almost leaping out of his skin.

"It sounds as though some one is in trouble," Alice replied simply as she ran further down the tunnel. She disappeared around a corner, and Victor found himself shaking in the dark tunnel alone. He didn't know if he wanted to go forward or not. This Wonderland wasn't at all what he hoped it would be like, and now he wasn't too sure if he wanted to go any deeper into it.

"You may want to hurry," he heard a cold voice behind him say. He turned to see the Cheshire Cat sitting calmly in front of him, his form silhouetted by the dim light coming from the entrance of the cave.

"Why?" Victor asked suspiciously, "Is there some huge monster up ahead that will bite my head off the moment I walk past?"

"What a startling imagination you have," the Cat sighed, inspecting its very sharp claws. Despite the dull light, the claws seem to glare brightly, but the cat's smile seemed to glow eerily, and Victor could see its eyes narrowing almost in a hungry manner. "That may prove to be useful, or dangerous. I suppose we'll just have to see, won't we?"

"You didn't answer my question," Victor grumbled, "And why are you so wretched towards me? Have I done something wrong already?"

"No," the cat replied, "And yes, but I would be more concerned with going forward if I were you."

"I want to go home," Victor replied, "Not hang about here. It's dangerous, and not at all what I had hoped it would be."

"Well, my dear boy," the cat said, suddenly disappearing, and reappearing a little bit closer to Victor, "Wonderland is only what you make it. You cannot expect it to be any more then that. Second, if you wish to go home, the only way is to go forward. You must go forward to go back. Finally….your hair needs trimming…"

"I beg your pardon?" Victor asked, becoming thoroughly upset with the cryptic cat. "First of all, that's a very rude thing to say to a person to whom you were just introduced. Second, why must you speak in riddles? Can't I get a straight answer from you just once?"

"Yes," the cat replied, "There, I just gave you your one, straight forward answer."

Victor clenched his fists at his side in frustration before twisting around and storming down the tunnel. He turned the corner, just as Alice had, and found himself at a fork in the cave. Both sides led straight into darkness in opposite directions, and neither one was very inviting.

"Alice!" he called down the one to the left, "Alice! Where are you?" He directed this question to the path to the right, before crossing his arms. "That stupid cat! It's a wonder how I ever liked him in the first place. Now I have no idea of where to go. This was probably his plan all along. I suppose he probably works for the Queen of Hearts."

"That is an insult to which there is no easy way to forgive," the cat said, suddenly appearing in the middle of the fork. Victor jumped again, his hand going to his heart as it pounded heavily.

"I do wish you would stop doing that," Victor said angrily, "You're going to send me to an early grave!"

"Which would be a shame, because there are so many others in Wonderland who would like to do the same thing."

"I'm sure you would," Victor growled.

"Not at all," the Cheshire Cat answered, "I would never wish any harm upon a Liddell."

"Then why do you insist upon acting so beastly?" Victor demanded.

"I find it fun," the cat sneered, "And there are so very few in Wonderland who bring me as much satisfaction in a conversation."

"I am glad to be of service?" Victor replied, unsure of whether what the cat had said was a good thing or not. Deciding that now would be as good a time as any, he turned his attention back to the two tunnels before him.

"Now then," he whispered to himself, "Which way should I go?"

"That all depends," the cat said, "On where you want to get too."

Victor was about to reply when he realized he recognized the cat's speech. "This is just like what happened with Alice…" he thought to himself, "I suppose…" he started, know what to say, "I suppose I should like to go where Alice went."

"She went that way," the cat said, waving both his paws.

"Which way?" Victor asked, looking down the tunnel to the right, half expecting to see her walking back out again.

"Which way what?" the Cheshire Cat asked in reply.

"Did Alice go?" Victor answered, growing irritated.

"Who?" asked the cat.

"Oooh, you are absolutely intolerable!" Victor shouted. "Why, if you're neck wasn't so skinny, I would strangle you!"

"What a lovely sentiment," the cat sighed, "Though I'm afraid you're not my type…"

"Forget it!" Victor shouted, "I'll just pick a road on my own, and hope for the best!"

"Smart boy," Cheshire Cat said, clapping its front paws together, "Now you're thinking the way you should. Survival is based on instinct. The journey before is based upon survival. You survive, you go home. You don't, then you won't, it's that simple." And with that, the Cheshire Cat disappeared from sight once again.

Victor stood alone in the dark corridor, his eyes going from one passage to the other. That cat was right, and Victor knew it. He had just gotten here, and right from the start, Alice seemed to understand the principle of survival.

"Maybe that is why the cat treated her better," he thought out loud, "She knew what had to be done. And here I am, acting like a coward, not willing to help because I'm too frightened. Why, I may as well have been an oyster walking with the Walrus for trying to follow behind Alice like that. I have no knowledge of Wonderland except what Alice told me, and so I was relying on others to get me home. Well, no more. I'm a young man, and I should behave as such."

His words sounded very familiar, and it was then he recalled his father saying almost the exact same thing to him before Victor was sent off to boarding school.

"Well, since I am right-handed," he said, looking at the paths before him, "I suppose I'll go right. It's not as if I have much of basis for my decision either way."

With a final, spirit-renewing nod, he stepped towards the tunnel to the right. The whole passage was made of rough stone, though several mushrooms grew out of the walls, as well as a green moss. This moss seemed to have a phosphorescent glow, so it was a little easier to see where he was going. Still, the floor was impossible to really see, so he managed to stub his foot against rocks and pot-holes. By the time he saw a light at the end of tunnel, his feet were sore, and he wanted nothing more then to take off his shoes and put his feet into some hot water.

He walked out of the tunnel and was met with a surprising sight. About twenty yards ahead of him, standing tall and foreboding under the dark sky, was a huge fortress. The walls were grey and seemed to be made out of a solid rock, for Victor couldn't make out any sign of bricks or stones. The initial wall ran all the way around in what appeared to be a square, and along the battlements, he thought he saw the movement of what appeared to be walking cards. Dark clouds swirled overhead, and the windows on the building that rose above the wall were broken and had an eerie light glowing from within them. Tree stumps dotted the ground around the entrance, though none were actually next to the wall. The grass from the cave to the fortress looked as though it had been stomped down, and was more dead looking then the grass from before, if that was really possible.

"It's a bit of an eyesore, isn't it?" Victor heard the familiar voice of the Cheshire Cat ask. Victor looked around for where the cat would appear, and saw it resting easily in a dead tree, its bony tail dangling off the branch and moving side to side.

"What is it?" Victor asked, not quite as startled by the cat's appearance this time.

"The Fortress of Doors," the cat replied, his eyes staring straight into Victor's. Victor hadn't thought of it until now, but as he looked at the cat, he realized that he had never seen the cat blink.

"Well, what's it doing here?' Victor asked, "Shouldn't something like this be, I don't know, near the Queen's Castle or something?"

"The Queen's Castle is far larger then this," cat purred, "This is merely here as an extension of her grasp. That is all."

"Well, is there a reason I'm here?" Victor asked, certain that no matter which way he had chosen, the cat would have had something for him to undertake.

"Yes," the cat nodded, vanishing and reappearing in front of Victor, "There is a door in there you must go through…"

"Can't I just walk around the fortress?"

"Not all doors lead outside," the cat replied mysteriously. "This particular door will take you one step closer to leaving. Look for Rabbit. He's waiting for you in there."

"But, how am I to get in?" Victor asked, peering through the murky air towards the gate. "That gate looks solid, and I don't think those guards will open it for just anyone. And any way, I certain that the rest of it is heavily guarded, with everything locked against unwanted guests."

"True," agreed the cat, "Doors have locks, and locks require keys, none of which you have."

"Well, perhaps there's another way in. After all, you know what they say," Victor said mischievously, "There is more then one way to skin a cat…"

The Cheshire Cat's eyes narrowed, and though the corners of his mouth were turned up, it wasn't difficult to tell the cat was not pleased.

"A most foul metaphor," he hissed, "Avoid using it in the future."

"Why?" Victor asked, proud that he had finally gotten the upper hand in a conversation with the Cheshire Cat, "I find it to be a positively lovely saying."

The cat just rolled its eyes and turned towards the fortress again, "If you are finished with playing around, I know of another way inside."

"And what is that?" Victor asked, not sure if he wanted to know. So far, the cat had done nothing but set him up for trouble, and he had a sick feeling in his stomach that he would soon be in danger.

"It's rather simple, actually," the Cheshire Cat explained, "There is a small pond not far from here, the home of the Mock Turtle. He will be sure to help you get into the fortress."

"A Mock Turtle? What's that? I can't seem to remember him," Victor questioned, picking his brain. He knew the name sounded familiar, but when he thought about it, he decided that he must have been dozing at that point in the story.

"It's the thing that Mock Turtle Soup is made of, though I wouldn't mention that around him…" the cat said dryly, "It seems they don't teach you very much at school anymore."

"Before we get launched into a ridiculous discussion on school, would you please point me in the direction of the Mock Turtle's pond?"

The cat just looked to the left of the fortress. "He lives over in that direction." He started to vanish again at this, and when all that was left was he disturbing smile, he added, "Oh, and, please don't get caught. I should hate to have to tell Alice that her dear cousin was beheaded…"

And with that, the grin vanished without a trace. Victor shivered as he looked around the area, as if there were soldiers of the Queen waiting just within the edge of the dead woods. Just a few feet ahead, a small break in the tangled mass of trees stood with a small, pale dirt path going into the trees.

"Well, I suppose that's as good as any where to start. That cat still wasn't very clear, but I think he meant that this Turtle lives somewhere in the those woods. Oh dear, this is not going to be easy, though I guess I really shouldn't have expected it to be."

He walked as quickly as he could to get to entrance of the wood without alerting the guards on the wall, cursing every sound his feet made on the dead grass. As he approached the opening, he saw an old sign hanging on a rusty nail on one of the trees. A good deal of moss covered the wood of the sign, and dry rot was eating away at the edges. It hung just above his head, so Victor was forced to stand on his toes to get close enough to read it, and even then he had to squint to make out the smudged lettering.

"Wonderland Woods…" he read aloud, "I suppose it's rather like those woods in children stories, where there's an old witch who eats little children when they wander in too deep. Oh well, if finding this Turtle gets me home any faster…" He shrugged his shoulders and walked hesitantly under the twisting branches.

The woods were quiet, and it made Victor even more apprehensive. After wandering down the path for several minutes without any sound but his own breathing and heart pounding, he would have liked to hear any other noise; even the sound of leaves underfoot would have been a welcome change to the dead silence, but it seemed that the trees never had any leaves to drop underfoot in the first place.

The whole air seemed oppressive, and just as Victor felt like he was doomed to wandering the silent woods in depression forever, he heard a quivering voice over to his left. It sounded like a moan, and the voice itself was rather nasally; Victor thought it was rather irritating. It sounded like it was singing a song, though the way it was sung, so sadly and pitifully, one would have guessed it was a dirge, despite the ridiculous words.

"Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance? Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?"

"What a horrible sounding voice," Victor mumbled, "I wonder if it's the Mock Turtle?" He thought he heard the sound of water moving, and was glad for that, because it was better sounding then the singing, and meant that he had found the pond. He crept behind a tree and peeked around. It was then he got his first glimpse of the Mock Turtle.

It certainly didn't look anything like any turtle Victor had ever seen. Instead of the usual beaked and leathery face of normal turtles, it had the head of a bull, though the hair was blue, and its horns were not as long as a normal bull's horns. Two, tiny black eyes stood just above his elongated snout, and from them, tears flowed freely as the Mock Turtle wept. The rest of his body was very turtle-like, with the leathery flippers and shell. He was slumping pathetically on the edge of a small, murky pool, wiping away its tears with its left flipper as it ended the song and began it again.

Quite certain that the ridiculous creature before him was harmless enough, Victor stepped out from behind his tree and coughed lightly. The Mock Turtle jumped as turned his bullish head towards Victor. When he saw the young man, he raised his flippers to his mouth and let out a squeal, before diving into the pool.

"Wait! Mr. Mock Turtle! Come back!" Victor ran to the pool and peered into the dark waters, searching for any sign of the creature. "I promise, I'm not going to hurt you! I'm here with Alice!"

The pond was still for a moment, and Victor sighed, guessing the Turtle would not return. "Now how am I to get into the Fortress of Doors?" he asked himself as he turned to leave.

Just then, a splashing sound erupted from the pond, and Victor whipped around to see the Mock Turtle climbing onto the edge of the dirty pool.

"You're here with Alice?" the Turtle asked quietly in his nasal voice.

"Yes," Victor nodded quickly. He started to walk back, but noticed the Turtle looked like it was going to dive back into the pool the moment he drew close.

"Oh, please don't go! I need you're help," he said, slowing down his walk towards the now-shaking Mock Turtle.

"W-w-what kind of help?" the Turtle asked, sniffing away his tears.

"The Cheshire Cat told me that you could help me get inside the Fortress of Doors," Victor explained, "I was hoping you would."

"Well, why would you want to go into a place like that?" the Turtle asked, seeming to calm slightly, "It's a dreadful place, full of nasty guards, and the nasty school, and all those confusing doors." He started to wail, as if the thought of it brought the pathetic creature an overwhelming sadness.

"Cheshire Cat said that the White Rabbit would be waiting for me there, and that I need to go through a certain door. He said it would take me one step closer to going home, so please say you'll help me."

The Turtle looked at Victor with its sad, beady eyes, and then nodded slowly. "Alright," the Turtle agreed, "If the Cheshire Cat said it, then I suppose it's alright. But, I hope you can swim, for that is the only safe way into the Fortress."

"I learned how to swim at school, but how is it the only way into the fortress? I didn't see any kind of river flowing out of it."

"Just because you don't see something, doesn't mean it's not there," the Turtle replied, almost haughtily. "We shall go under the wall, through the tunnel in my pond."

"There's a tunnel from the fortress to your pond? Why?"

"Are you coming or not?" the Turtle asked quickly, ignoring Victor's question. The reptile, if it could be called that, seemed to have taken on a completely different attitude then the sad, mournful one he had had a moment ago, and was not readying to dive into the pond.

"Well, yes," Victor nodded, "But, how long are we going to be down there? I mean, if this tunnel is underwater, I don't think I should be able to stay under for long. I would surely drowned, wouldn't I?"

"Not if you stay close to me," the Turtle answered, "Follow my bubbles. Cling to the, cuddle them, and you'll come out just fine. Loose them, and you'll be sleeping with the fishes."

Victor gulped hard as he walked up behind the Turtle. He didn't want to do this, one because of how dangerous it was, and two, because of how filthy the water looked. How was he supposed to follow the Turtle, if he was too afraid to open his eyes under the murky depths of the water?

As though he were reading Victor's thoughts, the Turtle clapped his flippers together and said, "Oopsie, I almost forgot. Take these," he said, his left flipper disappearing into his shell and popping back out again quickly. In his leathery grasp as a pair of thick goggles. A leather strap went around the back to hold it in place on the wearer's face, and it was a good thing too, for the goggles themselves looked heavy.

"These are Amphibious Eyewear. They are both stylish and functional."

Victor just gave the Mock Turtle a skeptical look as he took the eyewear from the amphibion and started to fasten them in place over his eyes.

"With these, you'll be able to see just as well as any amphibian in the water, and the tortoise-shell frames are rather handsome to boot," the Mock Turtle explained, adding the last piece with a bit of pride, "I made them, you know."

"Lovely," Victor said dryly as he finally got them into place.

"You look so spectacular," the Turtle nodded, "Are you sure you are not already amphibious?"

"I'm quite certain I'm not," Victor replied, "At least, I wasn't when I got here." He walked over to the edge of the pool, next to the turtle. The pool itself was actually rather large, with cracked stones lining the edge in a circular manner. Victor peered into the water, and upon seeing his reflection, started to blush. The goggle were thick, he had seen that before he put them on, but even in the dark water, he was able to see that his green eyes looked huge now, like how one of his teacher's eyes looked when he put on his bifocals.

"Shall we go?" the Mock Turtle asked, and without another word, or waiting for an answer, he dove into the water with a splash.

Victor looked disdainfully at the pool, before leaping in himself. He spluttered as he tried to get use to the bitterly cold water. The water's felt slimy on his skin, and already, his teeth began to chatter. Still, not wanting to let the Turtle get too far ahead, he took a deep breath and ducked down into the black depths of the Mock Turtle's Pool.


	3. Never Follow A Mock Turtle

This is a re-write of the chapter. Most of it stayed the same, but the ending has been changed due to the fact that I was struck with a "croquet mallet of inspiration" (which really hurt by the way) and decided to take this in a completely different direction.

* * *

Despite the apparent murkiness of the pool, Victor found that it was rather easy to see below its surface. The deathly cold water swirled around him, and it took a moment to get used to it, but after he had gotten his bearings, he saw the first bubble that the Turtle was talking about. He swam to it, his lungs already growing sore, and kicked his way through it. The moment his head entered the bubble, he found himself taking a deep breath before the bubble popped.

So that's how it works, Victor thought to himself, I breath in the air before it pops. Through his goggles, Victor was able to see the next bubble, and another just beyond it, and so on and so forth all the way down the dark, underwater passageway, straight down for heaven knows how long, before reaching the pool's bottom. It was then he saw a tunnel start from the bottom of the pool towards what he could only hope was the Fortress of Doors' underground entrance.

Pushing himself through the cold water, he swam from one bubble to the next, his lungs drinking in the air at each stop, relief coming to him with each breath. The Turtle must have been far ahead of him, because even with the Amphibian Eyewear, he couldn't see the Turtle's tail. The darkness around him was oppressive, and if not for the bubbles that signified the Mock Turtle's presence, Victor would have felt terribly alone.

The passage seemed to stretch on and on, but as he swam along, Victor began to see a noticeable change in the way the passage was made. Before, the walls, floor, and ceiling had all been rough and under managed. Now, the walls were smoothing out, and etched in a long row on either side of the tunnel were symbols from a deck of cards. Hearts, then clubs, then diamonds, and finally spades all stood next to each other, and each one was lit by a strange light, casting an eerie glow through the whole tunnel. The bubbles continued to lead on, and when Victor had finished breathing the latest one, the tunnel suddenly went up, and the bubbles stopped. Swimming as fast as his cold and stiff limbs would allow, he ascended the upward shaft and was overjoyed to see the ripples on top of the water. However, he did not see the Mock Turtle, but his lungs were burning too much for him to really be concerned.

As his head burst out of the water, he gasped for breath and blinked as his goggles began to fog up. He coughed for a few seconds, and pulled the eyewear off, wiping his eyes.

A fearful, squeaking sound echoed through whatever room he was in, and as he finally looked around, he saw what had happened to the Mock Turtle.

Standing straight and tall, all around the stone-lined pool were guards; Card Guards. There were two different types, Spades and Hearts. Both looked very much alike, except for the obvious coloring differences, with their flat, numbered bodies and suit-shaped heads. The Spades all held wicked looking axes, whose heads were shaped like spades, while the Hearts carried spears with hearts at the end, sharp end out. All of them looked down at Victor with either a wicked sneer or malicious anger on their squinting, beady eyes, and Victor felt his breath quickening.

"In the name of Her Majesty, The Queen of Hearts," a Ten-of-Hearts bellowed, "You and the Mock Turtle are under arrest!"

Victor tried to dive back under the water, though he knew he wouldn't survive under there without the Mock Turtle's help, but was stopped when he was forcefully grabbed by the collar by a Spade.

"Put me down!" Victor coughed as he was dunked into the water before being pulled up. His mouth was filled with a horrible taste, and the water made him feel as though he was going to wretch as it filled his nose and burned his nostrils.

"You will spend the evening in a cell, and shall be executed at dawn for infiltrating and attempting to spy on the Fortress of Doors."

"But that's not true!" Victor shouted, but suddenly fell silent when three axes and two spears were pointed his way.

"You have the right to remain silent," the Ten of Hearts said proclaimed.

"Anything you say will not matter, for you shall be beheaded anyway!" a Six-of-Spades, who was the one holding Victor now, added.

Victor looked to the Mock Turtle, who was being held at the tip of a spear by a Two-of-Hearts. The poor creature looked terrified, and that it would die of fright any moment. Victor felt very sorry for it, because it had only being doing what Victor had asked it to do.

"Well, I shall come along without a fuss," Victor said solemnly, trying to plan his words, "If you'll promise that the Mock Turtle goes free. I had tricked him into leading me here, for you see, he isn't very bright, and quite easy to scare into the tunnel below."

The Mock Turtle looked as though he wanted to glare at Victor for what he said, but the combined terror of being spitted on the guard's spear, along with his realization that Victor was trying to get him free apparently stopped the glance.

The second Heart, an Ace-of-Hearts, looked thoughtfully at Victor for a moment, rubbing its flat chin. "What's you're name?" he asked suddenly.

"I'm the Mock Turtle," the Turtle replied fretfully, but the Ace just snapped at the reptile.

"I was talking to the boy, you stupid creature," he hissed before turning to Victor again. "Now, what is your name? And give me your full name, so we may know what to write out on the death warrant."

Victor swallowed hard. He didn't know what to say, for the Ace had practically sealed his fate with those words.

"V-Victor L-Liddell, sir," Victor said quietly, shaking.

All of the guard's eyes widened at this and they began to whisper to each other. Victor considered whether now would be a good time to try and run, but thought better of it, for with their number, and the small room they were in, he knew he wouldn't get very far.

The Ace looked to the Turtle. "Get out of here you stinking thing. Don't let me catch you in that tunnel again, or next time, it'll be your head."

The guard holding him stepped away, and the Turtle looked at Victor, its black eyes shining with sorrow and gratitude, before it dove into the water without a word. As the ripples bounced off the walls of the pool and came to an end, Victor had a sick feeling that so too would his life, very soon.

As he walked behind the guards, Victor kept his head down, his ears burning with fear, and a prickly feeling running up and down his neck, of which he was certain to loose very soon.

The footsteps of the cards echoed on the walls as they passed down hallways, many of which were lined with doors. In fact, most of the walls were just rows upon rows of doors, and every time the group would go into a door, it would lead into another hall that looked just like the one they had passed through. Victor's hands had been shackled the moment after the Turtle left, and the tight bonds were beginning to chafe his wrists. He tried to twist them, in hopes of making them feel a little less tight, but a stern prod from the Five-of-Spades behind him ended that attempt.

After passing through three hallways, two corridors, and a set of archways, the Ace halted in front of another door that looked just like the rest. Opening it, the he pulled Victor forward and shoved him into a dark, dank room. It was terribly dark inside, and frightfully cold. It smelled of mold, blood, decay, and other nasty things, and in the light that came from the hall, Victor could make out the skeletons of animals and tiny, human-shaped creatures either hanging on chains hung on the walls, and cages dangling from the ceiling. The Ten-of-Hearts walked to a wheel mounted on the wall with a chain running up from it. As he turned it, one of the cages lowered towards the ground, this one corpse free. The Six-of-Spades unlocked the door and shoved Victor inside. He fell against the bars opposite of the door with a crash, knocking his head against the rusty metal, and he slid down to the floor of the cage very dazed. The door clanged shut, and the Ten-of-Hearts, turned the wheel in the opposite direction, lifting Victor back up towards the ceiling.

"Get me down from here!" Victor shouted, feeling slightly braver now that he was away from the sharp weaponry, "Get me down at once! This is most improper!"

"So was you coming into the Fortress of Doors uninvited!" the Ace shot back. "And don't worry, we'll let you down for your execution!" The guards, finding this rather funny, all laughed cruelly before marching out the door, slamming it shut with a crash and leaving Victor alone in the darkness as his cage rocked back and forth slowly like a giant, rusty pendulum.

Having no where else to go, and nothing else to do, Victor gathered himself into a ball, holding his knees to his chest, tears dribbling from his eyes. How did he end up like this? He never imagined that he would be sitting in a pitch black prison, locked in a suspended cage, awaiting his execution. This is all because of his parents. They sent him to Rutledge's to visit Alice. He knew it was a bad idea, but no, they had to send him to cheer up Alice.

Alice.

This was just as much her fault as anyone else's. If she hadn't been so…so different, then maybe he wouldn't be here. He just knew this was what she was imagining when he went to visit her, and all he was trying to do was be nice. "No," he said quietly to himself, "That can't be right. I'm sure she didn't count on the White Rabbit coming back…I think…"

"Do you sing?" he heard someone ask from out of the darkness. He jumped, causing his cage to swing a little faster, which made him dizzy and ill as he tried to peer through the darkness and find the owner of the voice.

When he was unable to see anything, he replied, "W-who's there, and why do you ask?"

The cage next to his suddenly had a dim glow within its bars. Victor stared at it for several moments, confused by the phenomenon. As he watched, the light became brighter, and curved upwards at the end, forming what Victor recognized as a crooked grin. Soon, the eyes, ears, and rest of the Cheshire Cat materialized. "I saw you in the cage like a little bird, so I assumed you sang…"

"Unless you're here to help, please leave me alone, Mr. Cheshire. Can't you see that my situation is positively wretched right now? I'm wet, I'm cold, I feel like vomiting, and I'm going to be executed at the earliest convenience!"

The cat continued to smile the whole time, listening as Victor listed his situation. "I'm sorry," the cat snickered, "Please take all complaints to the front desk." Victor decided to not even respond to the statement, and instead decided to look away from the feline and sulk.

"You must be a Liddell," the cat smiled, his tail waving too and fro, "You pout just like your cousin."

"Always like Alice…" Victor mumbled as he looked towards the door. He thought he had heard the sound of footsteps, but when the door didn't open after several long minutes of silence, Victor decided that the steps weren't for him and turned back to the cat.

"Feeling nervous, are we?" the cat asked with a pleased look in his yellow eyes.

"No," Victor replied dryly, "I enjoy waiting for my death…"

"Well, that's very good, my dear boy," the cat chortled slightly, "Because you are about to receive a visit from a woman who has been dying to run into you."

"W-what?" Victor asked, terror filling his heart, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "You mean, s-she's coming? For me?"

"That's right, so I hope you're prepared, and try not to loose your head…"

Victor threw a glance over to the doorway again, but no sounds came from it. This didn't lower his horror, which was made only worse when he looked back towards the Cheshire Cat to find he had disappeared again.

So, she was coming for him. The Queen of Hearts, the most feared figure in all of Wonderland, was coming to pass her sentence on him, and from reading the book and what Alice had told him, he knew just what it would be.

Off with his head…

Perhaps it shall be quick and painless, Victor told himself, but that didn't cheer him up in the least. Images of his headless body crept slowly into his mind, and it disturbed him greatly, especially when he remembered the rumor that when people are beheaded, they are still alive for a second before they really die. He thought back to his parents. What would happen if he died here? What should his parents think if he never came back from Rutledge's? "Father would probably say something like, 'Good riddance'…" Victor said, starting to sob. He and his father were not on the best of terms, so he just knew his father would be glad to get rid of him, like when he was sent to boarding school. His mother would likely cry and be upset, but would eventually fall onto father's side of things, just as she always did. "Why does she always take his side on everything?" Victor asked into the darkness. It wasn't fair at all, the way they would both align against him.

"I'm sure you are having a pleasant time talking with yourself," the Cheshire Cat smiled, "But if you're finished, perhaps you would like to know of an escape that will shortly present itself…" With that, the cat disappeared again. Victor shook his head as he looked around for this escape. The bars still looked just as secure, the room looked just as dark, and the cage was still swinging rhythmically back and forth. Victor sat back down dejectedly, but jumped up a moment later, a yelp leaping from his lips.

"What was that?" he asked, rubbing his rear end. Something had greeted his rear as he sat down, and as he peered through the darkness, he couldn't make it out at all. Gathering up his courage, he reached down and felt around the floor of the cage, his hands rubbing gingerly across the rough, rusty base of his prison. Finally, his fingers met what had assaulted him, and he hesitantly picked it up.

Whatever it was, it was round, and had a leathery surface. He ran his fingers over the orb and felt stitching, fraying stitching, but stitching none the less. "It feels just like a cricket ball…" Victor muttered as he turned it over in his hands

"It is…" the Cheshire Cat replied as he appeared just below the cage. Victor could see his smile once again, and its appearance had not grown any less disturbing. "I always thought you looked like a bright boy…"

"Well, what am I to do with it?" Victor asked, looking down towards his hands, though he could still see nothing. "I don't think that I shall find much in the way of a game here."

"No, but if you prove to be a good bowler, taking your opponent's wicket may just be enough of a reason to let you go free…"

"How do you mean?" Victor asked, a sudden urge to chuck the ball at the cryptic cat rising in his thoughts. He was growing very tired of the run-about way the cat had of talking, and trying to knock out the thing's grin with the ball would feel slightly relaxing.

"Bowl it to me…" the Cat replied simply, "I want to play a game with you. And, do try to win, for this is a timed game.

"With pleasure," Victor muttered. He pulled back as far as the cage allowed, summoning up all the things he learned in class about the proper way of bowling the ball, and hurled it from between the bars, the cage openings being just wide enough to allow the escape of the leather sphere. Victor couldn't follow its trip because of the darkness, but he was able to see the Cheshire Cat suddenly disappear. While he had expected that, he did not expect what came next.

The sound of something very hard being struck echoed through the dungeon. This sound was followed by a rumbling noise, which came just before a scream. The cage dropped from its hanging position on the ceiling, and Victor was lifted off his feet and pressed against the roof of the cage as he and the metal prison hurled towards the floor.

With a resounding slam that left Victor's ears ringing, the cage came to a rest on the floor. Victor was slammed back onto the floor of the cage, and he was absolutely certain that he had broken something. He lay there in the dark, groaning as he tried to decide whether he should stand up or not. Reaching his hand out to grab for a bar to help him stand up, his hand met something else.

A rough, wooden surface met his touch, and he pushed against it. A moment later, something heavy knocked against the back of his head as he lay face down in his prison.

"What in heaven's name?" he growled as he sat up, grabbing a hold of what had struck him. He ran his fingers over it, and knew almost immediately what it was.

A cricket bat.

"What is this doing here?" he asked, holding the wooden paddle in his hands. The only answer he received was the creaking open of the prison door. As the light poured into the room, Victor squinted as his eyes tried to adjust to the sudden change. However, he wanted to clamp his eyes shut, for before him stood three Card Guards, each one a Heart, and each one with a wicked spear pointed right at him.

"'ey! What are you doing out of your cage?" one shouted, "Was he supposed to be out of his cage?" This question was directed to his companions, but Victor looked around and noted that his cage door was open. "It must have opened when the cage fell…" he muttered to himself.

"Don't sit there talking to yourself," the second card shouted, walking forward, "Get back in there, or we'll execute you right now!"

"Use the bat…" Victor heard the Cheshire Cat whisper, "Cricket is such a fun sport…it always is a bloody good time…"

Before he knew what he was doing, he had jumped to his feet and had readied the bat to swing. "Stay back!" he shouted, waving it wildly at the three cards, "I'll bludgeon you, so help me, if you come any closer!" The cards simply laughed at his crazed swings.

"Please, little blighter," the third one laughed hoarsely, "You don't have the nerve! Look fellows! The little boy's got himself a bat! Watch out now! He may give you a bruise!"

I'm serious!" Victor growled, tears forming in his eyes. The teasing was more then he could take, and the fear that was swelling up within him was choking his senses.

"Oh, 'e's cryin' now, gents!" the first one laughed, stepping closer, his spear leading. Victor couldn't bear it. The call to strike out, combined with the taunting was too much, and he swung hard and fast. A cracking sound bounced off the walls and blood sprayed on Victor's face and arms. His clothes were stained with the crimson liquid, and he opened his eyes in stunned silence. The body of the Card Guard lay crumpled on the ground, gore and blood lying where his bashed-in head rested. Victor looked from the body to the bat in his hands, barely noticing that all other sounds and the mocking jeers had died away. Victor glanced to the guards just in time to see them both run forward, though their movements were very slow, as though time itself was mourning the shattered innocence of Victor's sheltered world. The blood drying on his face, Victor felt his entire body tensing, and watched helplessly as he swung the bat again, striking the beastly guards that approached, the first one took the blow solidly in the stomach, but the other ducked, sending his spear sharply into Victor's leg. Victor's only response was another swing, this one downwards, which resulted in the flattening of the guard's spine.

All three guards lying dead at his feet, Victor dropped the cricket bat onto the floor of the dungeon, and sank to his knees, blood dripping from his wounded leg, and his entire being falling to pieces, like the remains of a shattered looking-glass.


	4. Case File 1

This little bit will be making an appearance every so often. It is a case file, or parts of it, and each one is a bit of iformation from a doctor, though the opening part of this is what happened the fateful night we all write about! Don't forget to review!

* * *

Alice was dozing contentedly under the warm sun. The bright, radiating light shone down onto the shining tea cups and teapots that were scattered about on the white table cloth. Alice's eyes drifted about stupidly from the chair across from her to the one next to her, the one where the Mad Hatter was seated, sipping his tea and chattering to the March Hare. The Hare sat on the other side of the Dormouse, and the Hatter and the Hare had, once again, propped their elbows up on the poor creature as he snoozed.

"Would you care for some more tea, my dear?" the Hatter asked, turning to Alice. He removed his tall, pale green hat with a price tag still on it, to reveal a teapot perched precariously on his head.

"I haven't had any yet," Alice replied, snapping awake, "So I couldn't possibly have more."

"Ah, you mean you couldn't have any less," the Hatter answered, taking the teapot off his head and pouring some tea into Alice's tea cup, "You can always take more of something!"

"Let's hear a story!" the March Hare declared suddenly, "I think Alice should tell us one this time. The Dormouse always tells the one about the three sisters and the treacle well, and I'm growing quite bored with it!"

"Well, what sort of story should I tell you?" Alice asked, still not quite conscious to the conversation. She felt dreadfully tired for some reason, and just couldn't bring herself fully awake.

"Recite something for us!" the Hatter said in an almost demanding tone.

"Yes, I do love a good recitation!" the March Hare agreed, "They are ever so lovely!"

"Very lovely, very lovely…" the Dormouse mumbled.

"Wake up, Dormie!" Hatter said cheerfully, knocking the Dormouse on the head with a spoon, "It's time for the tea party!"

"So, shall I begin?" Alice asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Yes, please do," said the Hare, "Before you fall asleep like the Dormouse here!"

"And when you come to the end," the Hatter added, "Stop."

"Very well," Alice answered, "How about this? 'They told me you had been to her, and mentioned me to him. She gave me a good character, but said I could not swim…"

Alice had really meant to say a rhyme she had learned last year, before she began to come regularly to Wonderland, but this set of verses came to mind instead. And since she felt too drowsy to try and think of something else, she went ahead and said them.

"Why, that was the shortest story I have ever heard!" the March Hare proclaimed.

"Yes," the Mad Hatter nodded, sounding rather irritated, "It was much too short! You must tell us another!"

"Another?" Alice asked wearily, but didn't argue and instead asked, "So, why don't I tell you of the most darling thing Dinah did the other day?"

"I'm sure I don't really care," the Hatter said haughtily, "But I shall listen anyway. Now, who is this Dinah again?"

"Why, Dinah's my cat-" Alice answered. However, the moment she said "cat", the Dormouse shot wide awake, shaking violently.

"Cat? Cat? Where is a cat?" And with that, he sprung upon the table, knocking over three tea cups, a sugar bowl, and a platter of butter.

"Grab him!" the Hatter cried, reaching for the panicked Dormouse. The Dormouse rushed to other end of the table, squealing about cats, with March Hare and the Mad Hatter hot on his heels, both crushing crumpets and sugar cubes and kicking over just as many tea cups as the Mouse, and though the whole scene was pandemonium, Alice laid her head down on her arms on the table and fell asleep. Meanwhile, the Hatter had grabbed a teapot and was trying to pour tea onto the Dormouse's nose, while the March Hare held him by the tail.

"This hot tea shall calm him down!" the Hatter explained to the Hare.

"Is it Darjeeling? I should like some of that afterwards if you don't mind," the Hare said quickly.

"But of course," the Hatter smiled, completely forgetting about the Dormouse, and reaching for another tea cup. At this point, the Dormouse was still in a panic, and had finally managed to pull its tail free from the Hare's grasp. It rushed down the table again, and knocked into a lantern that was hanging above the table by a string that was hung from two trees. The lantern fell onto the table, shattering the glass as the oil spilt everywhere. The tiny flame in the lantern quickly spread over the oil, and soon, there was a small blaze right in the middle of the tea table.

The Dormouse, having seen what it had done, had hopped off the table and was running about in circles around the table shouting, "Aaah! Oh dear! Oh dear!" Meanwhile, the Hatter rushed to Alice and was shaking her furiously.

"Wake up, Alice! Wake up!" he cried, just as frightened as the Dormouse.

"You must save Alice!" the Hare shouted above all the noise.

* * *

"You must save Alice!"

Alice jerked awake from her bed, where she had been sleeping for the past hour.

Glancing around the dim bedroom, she thought that everything was in a haze, and found that it was not from the bleariness of her eyes (as eyes usually are after you have slept for a while) but instead from the dark billows of smoke puffing up from the doorway of her room.

"Mum! Father!" Alice cried, very frightened as she heard a window shatter down the hall. She jumped off her bed and ran to the door, but the brass handle was hot, and a red glow beneath it, along with the smoke, drove her away from it.

"Get out, Alice!" she heard her mother scream. Having no other way out of her room, Alice gathered all the courage her little eight-year old body had, and threw open the door, only to step into an inferno in the hallway.

The horror that filled her was as overwhelming as the heat. Flames ran up and down the hall, doors and rafters had fallen in on themselves, the blue wallpaper peeling of the wall and the glue melting before it fell to the floor. Her father's study, the one nearest her own bedroom, was completely engulfed in the raging fire, and from inside, she could hear the horrible sounds of Dinah and her kittens as they squealed to escape. The doorframe had fallen in, blocking off the room, except for the top, where Alice could see Dinah, her beloved cat, and her litter of kittens, scrambling about to avoid the fire and falling debris.

"Dinah!" Alice cried, trying to move aside some of the charred wood, but the flames bit her hands, and she found she had to leave the blocked entrance to avoid a falling piece of the ceiling.

"Save yourself, Alice! Get out of the house!" she heard her father yell, and Alice ran to her parent's room, avoiding the holes in the floor, her eyes burning from tears, smoke and ashes. The orange and red glow continued to intensify as she made her way through the collapsing hall, her mind bent on nothing else but getting to her parent's room. Her parent's room was also blocked by debris, and from inside she could only listen as her father tried to comfort the terrified voices and screams of his wife and Alice's older sister. "Mother! Father! Wendy! I'm scared!" she screamed to them, "Please! I want you, mummy!"

"Get out, Alice, now!" her father cried again, and Alice found herself obeying. She couldn't resist the pull to run, though she wanted nothing more then to go back to her family, but found that there was nothing for it. Her body seemed to be running on its own, and she could only watch as she went back down the stairs, all the way to the bottom floor now, towards the front door. The first floor didn't seem to be touched by the fire yet, but Alice barely noticed through the tears streaming down her face.

She finally reached the front door, and was climbing down the stairs when she heard one, final scream.

"Alice!"

She turned when she heard her mother's scream, and was met with a huge wave of heat. It knocked her backwards, and her foot slipped on the edge of the first step, which was covered with ice and snow. She fell backwards, knocking her head against the stone stair and landed in the snow at the base with a thud. The last thing she saw and heard was the sound of her mother's long and pained scream, combined with the collapsing of her home into a burning pile of flames, as sparks shot up into the sky like thousands of red and orange fireflies.

Wonderland….where are you now…?

* * *

February 6, 1867, 8:00 a.m.

I, Doctor Theodore Pensington, being of sound mind and body, do write this first entry in my medical journal before beginning my time at the Rutledge's Mental Institution. While I have been in the psycological practice for ten years now, I still have very much to learn. I must also confess that I am rather nervous about my new place of employment. I have heard dreadful stories coming out of that place, most of which would frighten anyone not used to such things. I, however, am, and despite the chilling tales I have been told, I shall brave the unknown and discover what knowledge awaits me within the dark and dreary confines of Rutledge's.

* * *

February 6, 1867, 11:00 a.m.

I have just received my first patient assignment. She suffered from a series of peculiar hallucinations as a child, and though they are clearly fantastic in nature, the patient insisted for a year they were true. Then, a year after the original hallucinations, the patient underwent another attack, once again returning to reality and stating that the visions actually happened. The urgency with which the patient so fervently described them to family and friends would show the firm belief in the hallucinations. However, that is not the full reason the patient is within Rutledge's.

After the second set of hallucinations, the patient's home and family were the victims of a terrible blaze. The patient lost both parents, as well as almost all personal belongings. This, in conjunction with the frequent hallucinatory attacks during the time spent in the hospital to recover form wounds received during the blaze, is the reason the patient is here.

The circumstances with which the patient has gone through to end up here are quite disheartening, but I shall not allow that to interfere with my work. The patient, a one Alice Liddell, has had but one visitor during her time in Rutledge's, a Mr. Lewis Carroll.

It is now past medication and feeding time. That means I may go and see my patient for the first time. I shall continue my report later.

* * *

February 6, 1867, 6:00 p.m.

I have spent a good deal of time with Alice, and on my first day meeting her too. As I stepped into the room, my eyes were met by her own, a vibrant green, though quite empty. She is so skinny that it would seem she has barely eaten. My superior, Doctor Edward Stanton, informed me that she never has much of an appetite, and is sometimes forced to eat to keep her from starving. This is disturbing, for it means that the will to live on is, in itself, deteriorating.

Besides that, it would seem that, speaking strictly from appearances, she is the same as any other patient. Her hair is a tangled mess; one would think that it had never seen a comb. Her face is a bit grungy, probably from the dirty bed sheets and room. I am disturbed that this girl, who looks no more the twelve, is locked in this awful place, with nothing but the window in her room as he only means of light and life.

After we were left alone, a pulled up a chair near her bed, where she sat, the thin sheets draped over her lap, her back propped up against the bars at the head of the bed. Trying my best to begin the patient-doctor bond, I smiled widely at he and asked, "Good day, my name is Doctor Theodore. What is yours?" Alice did not respond. Fearing that I may have set up a boundary by calling myself doctor, I decided to remove my title. "You may call me Theodore, if you wish. So, now that you have my name, why don't you tell me yours?"

Alice just looked at me with her emerald eyes and said very quietly, "You have my name in your files. Why do you ask for it?"

"Why, so I may now it from you," I replied, "After all, you may not wished to be called Alice, so I am giving you the opportunity to say so."

"My name is Alice," she said firmly, before turning her head to look out the window. That is good, I thought to myself, at least she knows her own name.

"So, Alice," I began, determined to take advantage of this somewhat talkative mood, "I am told that you don't leave your room much. What is is you do in her all by yourself?"

Alice did not look away from the window, but sighed and answered, "I wait…"

"Wait for what?"

"For him to return…"

"Who is him?" I ask, feeling good that we are making so much progress in such a short amount of time. However, Alice fell silent after this, and remained so for a whole fifteen minutes. She just looked out the window, at something just beyond the glass. I rose to my feet and looked outside, to see what she saw.

Just beyond the wall of Rutledge's is the edge of Hyde Park. A little ways from the road that separated the park from the institute, a small group of children were playing outside. They seemed to be playing Blind Man's Bluff, with a young girl being the one blindfolded. She laughed as the other children ran about, stepping just within in her reach, and then retreating as she went to touch them, all giggling and cheering. Alice stared at them, or in the direction at least, for several minutes, before lightly placing her hand on the glass. Does she wish to be free? Does she wish to play once again?

This, I do not know, but I watched for her reaction to the children's play. After another few minutes of silence, Alice finally spoke.

"That girl, in the blue dress…she is going to get hurt…"

I looked for the girl she spoke off, and saw that the only girl in blue was the one wearing the blindfold.

"How do you know?" I asked. The answer was obvious, for anyone who plays the game knows there is a risk of injury to oneself from any numerous ways. "Is she going to trip?"

"No," Alice replied, "She is going to fall."

"Is not tripping and falling the same thing, Alice?"

"No," Alice replied, shaking her head slightly, "She is going to fall…" She said this with such certainty that I decided not to press it.

After that exchange, Alice seemed to become catatonic, and would not say anything to me, despite my questions. We spent the next few hours like this, until it was time for me to go. As I started to leave, I turned back to Alice to say good evening. She looked at me before I could speak, however, and said very quiickly, "I am glad we had this time, Doctor. We really should try to reschedule for another appointment…"

I could only smile and wished her good evening.

After I finished filing my initial report for Doctor Stanton, I made ready to leave. As I left, I decided to walk through the park to help shake off the dim and gloomy atmosphere of Rutledge's. I walked past the group of children who were still playing outside, and saw that the young girl in blue had climbed up into a tree and was perched on the branch rather like a cat. Suddenly, the branch snapped and the girl went tumbling to the ground. The fall was not all that far, and she stood up almost immediately, her face red with embarrasment and tears. The other children rushed to her, some concerned, some laughing, but the little girl appeared to be made of stout stuff, and came out alright in the end.

Still, this raises the question: How did Alice know she would fall? Is this just a coincidence, or a lucky guess? Perhaps there is more to Alice then meets the eye. I suppose the only true way to know is to continue my study on her. I can only hope that my time spent with her shall be fruitful to aiding in her recovery, and eventual release from Rutledge's.


	5. Finding Your Way

Author's Note: For those of you who didn't notice, the ending for the last chapter involving Victor was changed, so that is why this one starts differently then you may have guessed. I suggest that you go back and re-read the ending of the chapter, Never Follow A Mock Turtle, to catch up on the changes!

* * *

Victor sobbed as he looked down at the cricket bat that lay solemnly on the ground, the blood on it starting to become dry and caked. His tears fell and mingled with the dried blood, causing it to become once more a crimson liquid, like wounds that kept being re-opened again and again. His mind was still reeling with what had happened. Had he really killed them? Or was this a nightmare, and he would wake up any moment to find himself in Rutledge's, or home in bed, and see that there was nothing to be upset about.

"Quite a lovely first victory…" he heard the Cheshire Cat purr. Victor glanced up to see the feline inspecting the bodies of the three guards. "Yes, very quick and to the point…I only have one question…" The Cheshire Cat turned to look at Victor now, his yellow eyes glowing almost insanely, or more insanely then usual. He padded forward on silent paws and sat before the broken young man.

"What is that?" Victor asked, sniffling back tears, and wiping his eyes. This however, did not help any, for the blood on the gray sleeves of his coat became wet from his tears, and smeared on his face. Victor was unaware of this, but that fact made the Cheshire Cat smile even wider.

"Have you ever thought of playing cricket as a profession?"

Victor was absolutely appalled by this question! Couldn't the cat see how disturbed he was? Couldn't his golden eyes understand the pain that Victor was feeling? How could he be so insensitive?

"You're a monster!" Victor declared loudly, his entire visage screwing into a bitter and blood-stained look of anger. "How can you speak so heinously about what has just happened? How can you not see what this has done to me? I've killed a man, no! three men, and you sit there talking like we were at a party!"

The Cheshire Cat said nothing for a moment, his eyes locked with Victor's and his grin growing even wider. Bony tail swishing back and forth, the cat just shook his head as Victor returned to his tears.

"You are truly unique…" the cat sighed tiredly, "You act as though it pained you to do this deed, but can you deny that you did not enjoy it? Truthfully, tell me that it did not feel invigorating in the least to bludgeon those that mocked and laughed at you? Tell me that it did not feel good when you tried to hit me with the cricket ball even before the guards came…if you can do that, in all honesty, then I shall agree my actions were heinous…"

Victor started to open his mouth, to try and deny the horrible accusations that the cat was throwing at him. But when his eyes met the cat's, when he looked into those omniscient, yellowed orbs, he found he couldn't speak the words of denial. He had enjoyed it, and it was this fact that made him sick. It was this truth that welled up in the pit of his stomach, and sent bile rushing up his throat. It was this truth that the cat saw in Victor's green eyes, and it was this truth, he knew too well, that had become the code of ethics for Wonderland.

"As you can see, Victor, this is not a happy place. I have learned that one cannot grasp tightly at innocence, for it gets in the way of survival. And as I have said, survival and instinct are the rules of the game here. If you wish to get home, you need to drop your fantasies of happy endings and unbloodied hands. This world is not meant for such dreams. The only dreams here that aren't nightmares are the ones that don't dwell on the past, to what has been loved and lost, but to the future, and what can be gained and recaptured…" The Cheshire Cat's entire tone, while sounding like one of scorn, also carried a small hint of an instructor-like tone. Victor could only nod at the speech of the cat, before reaching down for the cricket bat, his weapon.

His weapon…

It was what he had wanted in the beginning, when this all started, and when he had taken his first tentative steps into this place. But now that he had it, he saw that the cost of holding it, and knowing it was there was much greater then he could have ever realized. Before, it had only been a symbol of acceptance, that he was being treated as fairly as Alice was. But now, it symbolized the truth of Wonderland, and the meaning of the Cheshire Cat's words.

"I still don't agree with you, cat," Victor said, rising to his feet, "For I know that there is such a thing as happy endings…but I also see now that a great deal of things come before the happy ending is even seen as attainable…"

"Now, that is the disheartened, yet enlightened statement I wanted to hear!" the Cheshire Cat applauded, his tone still rather cynical, "I believe that you are truly ready to take a stand against the Queen. Now then, it is time for you to find the door to your place in Wonderland."

"My place? I have no place here!" Victor spat. This was not his world, and these were not his people. His heart, while finally understanding what he had to do, still ached at the thought of killing something else. His face was grim as he looked to the Cheshire Cat for answers; answers he was certain would come in a very cryptic and confusing manner.

"Everything has a place," the cat replied, turning towards the dungeon entrance, "And now, you must find yours. The first thing, however, is to find the way there…"

"And where is that?" Victor asked, starting to piece things together, "Is that the door you were talking about earlier?"

"Exactly so," the cat nodded, "It is in this very Fortress. Now, here's a riddle: I was introduced to 3 and 4, who passed me on to 8. I journeyed on, and there was no one to walk along with me, so 13 took me on to his home, along the briny sea…"

"But, that makes absolutely no sense!" Victor growled, "And I shan't be able to remember all of that anyway!"

"If you can't recall a simple riddle, then you really are in trouble…" the Cat replied, shaking his head. "Now then, if you'll excuse me, I am needed elsewhere. Do try to figure out the answer quickly, for the Card Guards already know the answer, and are certain to find you very soon…" And with that, he disappeared again.

Victor sighed heavily at this, but decide there was nothing he could do about it, and proceeded to walk quietly out of the dungeon and into the hallway.

The long, dim hallway was little change for Victor in terms of lighting and atmosphere, but he was still satisfied that he could at least see where he was going. The hall itself wasn't really all that special, with yellowed walls that must have been white at one time, and black and white tiled floors, the marble tiles cracked, broken, or missing all together. The only exceptional thing were the doors.

The entire corridor, from where Victor stood all the way to the other end, where Victor could not even see, was lined with doors. Each one looked exactly the same, and each one was evenly spaced apart. Each one had the exact same door frame, and each one had the exact same areas on the door and frame where the paint was peeling away. The only real difference between them was that each door was marked with a number. The numbers, starting with a two above the door to Victor's right and a three above the door to Victor's left, counted off in that manner all the way down. Victor shook his head at the sight, muttering only, "How very peculiar…this must be a very large fortress indeed if they are to have so many doors…" Still, the thought that any one of those doors could possibly be the one he needed to go through gave him a headache. That, combined with the fact that at any time, those doors could open to reveal Card Guards, or possibly something worse, was enough to get him moving down the hall, the cricket bat firmly in his hand, ready to strike out at any little surprises.

"Now, what did Mr. Cheshire say?" Victor asked himself standing in front of the door marked "5". He picked his brain for the details of the riddle, and reached into his pocket if for nothing more then because it was a nervous habit. As he did, he felt a piece of paper brush his hand, and he pulled it out to take a look.

The paper was folded over, so Victor unfolded it, only to reveal another fold inside. He made a grimace, but unfolded that, only to find another fold inside of that one. "Now, I know that the paper was only folded once over!" Victor grumbled, stomping his foot slightly. This was almost as bad as talking with the Cheshire Cat, but he continued to unfold. After about the fifteenth fold, he finally managed to get the whole thing open and looked at it. The only thing written on th bit of torn and yellowed paper was the number "3".

"That's all? That's what all that folding and unfolding was about!" Victor asked in frustration. "And what am I supposed to do with this!" Victor sighed again, and ran his fingers through his hair as he looked around, as if he expected the answer would appear before him. He looked at the door before him, deciding that he had no idea what to do, and would simply go into the door marked "5", but noticed something very strange. He was no longer standing before the door marked "5", but instead, he was standing before the door marked "3".

"Well, it's what the piece of paper says, so I suppose that it's as good as anywhere to go…" Putting the paper back into his pocket, he gripped the cricket bat tightly in his right hand, and opened the door. Within the frame, Victor could see nothing, just an empty darkness before him. He shut the door, fear creeping up his spine at what could possibly be lurking within the dark confines of the passage.

"Why do you shut the door?" the Cheshire Cat asked, his grin before Victor as the young man turned around. The rest of the Cat slowly came into view, as Victor rested his hands on his hips.

"Because, I can't see a thing in there, and heaven knows what could possibly be slinking around in there," Victor replied, "That riddle of your's didn't help me one bit! And what's the meaning of-" Victor had reached into his pocket to ask the Cat about the piece of paper that had somehow found its way into his possesion, but when he went to retrieve it, he found that his pocket was completely empty.

"The riddle answers the rhyme," the Cat purred, "And you should not live on possibilities. Why, if everyone lived on Possibilities, Certainties would never even make it onto the table…"

Victor just tapped his foot in response to the Cat's statement. "So, what do you recommend?"

"Why don't you try taking a leap of faith, instead of worrying about whether or not the leap will provide a proper landing?" To Victor's surprise, the Cheshire Cat did not disappear this time. He simply sat there, smiling on, as the uncertainty climbed up Victor's throat in the form of a lump. He turned back to the door and opened it, peering once again into the darkness before him.

"Take that leap…" the Cheshire Cat whispered. Victor knew not what else to do, so, closing his eyes tightly, he backed up slightly, ran forward, and jumped straight through the threshold.

His feet landed solidly on the floor. Opening his left eye slowly, he peeked at his surroundings. What he saw was enough for him to open both of his emerald eyes wide.

He was standing in the exact same hallway as before! The same, long stretch into apparent infinity, with doors lining either side all the way down.

"But-but how can that be! I just came from-!" But he stopped himself as he remembered exactly where he was. This was Wonderland, and in this world, anything was possible. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't feel frustrated at the turn of events.

"What's the meaning of this, Cheshire?" Victor asked, his green eyes glaring as he turned back to the door he had come through. There was no door, though, only a blank wall, whose paint was peeling. Victor ran back to the wall, ran his hands over it, searching for any sign of a doorway. His hands met only wall, with no creases for door hinges, or key hole, or a crack in the wall besides where the paint was peeling.

"But-but it was right there! I just came through a door!" Victor stammered as he backed away from the wall.

"Cheshire certainly was right," Victor heard a small voice mutter behind him, "You do talk to yourself a great deal."

Victor turned to see the large, bulbous eyes of the White Rabbit twitching around before looking back up at him. Its little paws fidgeted with the silver pocket watch it clutched almost desperately.

"It's the only way to have an intelligent conversation around here," Victor hissed, "And when did you get here? I didn't hear you coming?"

"You just aren't very observant," the Rabbit replied nonchalantly, looking down at his watch. "Oh my fur and whiskers!" he squealed, jumping into the air, "We are late! We must hurry on! Come quickly, Victor, we must be off!" The Rabbit turned and dashed off, rushing towards one of the doors, the one marked "4". Victor hurried after him after a brief pause, the Rabbit's sudden departure taking him by surprise. He reached the door just in time to have it slammed shut in his face.

"Hey! That was positively rude!" Victor grabbed the handle and pushed the door open, following this time without any sort of hesitation. Stepping into the hallway, he saw that this one was exactly like the last one. However, there was a noticeable change; the doors that should have been marked as "3" and "4" were both missing. Where they should have been, there was nothing but blank wall. Victor sighed, his mind filling with both answers and questions. "So…the doors disappear as I go through them…but I still don't know how follow along with the doors…wait!" The idea dawned on him. "That's what he meant! I met up with 3 and 4! Those are the numbers on the doors! It's the order!" Suddenly, the whole riddle made sense. "Still, what is the order?" He couldn't remember the order. Of all the things that could happen, he forgot the poem! And everyone said he was so good reciting things…it was one of the very few things people would agree he could do better then Alice.

"Hello, what's this?" Victor looked down the hall as he considered his options, and noticed something lying on the floor. He couldn't make out what it was from this distance, so he stepped a little closer. As he walked up to the new mystery, he noted that it was lying in front of the door marked with an "8". "Perhaps Mr. White Rabbit went through here…" Victor commented as he knelt doan and picked up the object. Th item was actually a pair of gloves. They were rather small, too small for Victor's hands, and made of a white cloth. "These must belong to him," Victor thought to himself. "I guess I'll hold onto them, at least until I see him again."

This time, he opened the door without even thinking about it. "The gloves must have been the hint this time," Victor reasoned as he entered the new hallway. "Now, there is only one left, I think…but which was it?"

Victor looked around the identical hallway, searching for some sort of clue, but saw none forth coming. It seemed that he would have to figure this one out alone.

"I remember something about the sea…" Victor mumbled, looking at his options. "Still, I think-"

Victor stopped, a noise tingling his ears. He looked to the doors, searching for the source of the sound. The sound, a rushing noise followed by a great crash, came in a very ordered manner, and sounded more like heavy breathing. Victor shivered at the thought of some huge beast behind one of the doors, ready to swallow him whole the moment he opened the door. "Now what do I do?"

"Try staying quiet for once and listen," the Cheshire Cat whispered to him. Victor looked around for the feline, but no trace of him could be seen.

"But, what am I listening for?" Victor asked the empty air. He felt rather stupid for doing such a thing, but knew that the Cheshire Cat was lurking somewhere nearby, and decided that this justified it.

"Follow the sound to your destination…" the Cheshire Cat replied, his voice echoing off the walls of the hallway. "You shall find your way if you follow the sound's way…" Victor could tell that the Cat was no longer present after he spoke those words. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes and decided to trust the feline's judgement. It had gotten him this far, so he didn't see the harm in following it now.

Victor listened carefully to the sound, the steady beating sound, and realised that it wasn't breathing, but actually sounded like water. Lots of water washing up against something. He focused on that sound as best he could, letting it lead him down the hallway. The sound continued on, sure and steady, never wavering or disappearing for a moment. It only grew louder as Victor followed, until finally, it was so loud, Victor knew it was right in front of him. Opening his eyes, he looked at the door before him; door number "13".

"Well, I guess this is it…" he whispered, his breath becoming shakey. His hand reached for the door knob, and clasped around the cold, brass handle. With one more deep breath, he pulled it open as fast as he could.

A blank wall met his frightened gaze. "What?" Victor said, not understanding what he was seeing. That didn't change what it was though. There, as real as life, stood a blank wall, contained within the door frame as if it was meant to be there. "But, that can't be right! The poem said-"

Victor never got to repeat what the poem said, however, for in the next moment, the four tiles beneath him fell out from under his feet, and he tumbled once again into darkness.

I think you're being too hard on him…

Don't be ridiculous, Mary-Ann! I know what is best for my son…

But he doesn't understan that, Jonathan…perhaps if you explained that to him…

That is absurd! I need not explain anything to my son. He should listen and follow as instructed. There is no need for him to question me…

Mary-Ann Liddell just shook her head at her husband's words. Today was Victor's last day at home before he was sent off to Flaversham's Finishing School for Boys. Mary-Ann had always been against the idea, but she also knew that her husband knew best, so there was no arguing against him. What she didn't know was that a two pairs of green eyes were watching her and her husband arguing from the stair case that led into the hall next to her husband's den.

"Victor, you're not really going away, are you?" Alice asked her cousin, her vibrant emerald eyes flickering sadly. Her tiny, eight-year-old voice quivered as she looked at her dear cousin, Victor, and how upset he was.

"Yes, I have to go…father says so," Victor nodded, fighting back tears, "But I don't want to go, Alice! It's not fair!" He stood up and stormed up the stairs, choking back sobs as he went to his room.

"It'll be alright, Victor," Alice said, following her cousin up the stairs, "You'll be home for Christmas, won't you? And Easter, and all those other holidays!"

"But I want to be home all the other times in between! It's not fair!" Victor growled, throwing open his door, "Father is so mean! I hate him!"

"You shouldn't say that Victor," Alice scolded, as Victor sat on the floor of his room, picking up his hand of cards. The two had been playing a game of Old Maid when they heard Victor's parents arguing downstairs. Looking at his hand, Victor saw he still had the Old Maid, who the pair had declared should be the Queen of Hearts. This reminded him of his cousin's stories, and that gave his young mind an idea.

"Alice, do you think you could take me to Wonderland?" he asked abruptly, looking down at his cards as if they were talking on something as normal as the weather.

"What?" Alice asked, her eyes looking quite surprised at his sudden question. "Whatever for?"

"Well, if I went to Wonderland with you, then I wouldn't have to go to school, and we could play there forvever!" Victor had started to grow excited with this idea, and hoped that his cousin would agree.

Alice looked up from her hand to Victor, then back down again. "You know that that is quite impossible, Victor," she said in an almost scolding manner. "One does not simply go to Wonderland. You have to be invited, like I was."

"But, you could invite me," Victor responded.

"No, only The White Rabbit can do that, you know," Alice said, shakingher head and looking at Victor's hand, trying to choose which card she would take. "After all, if everyone could invite everyone, then it wouldn't be Wonderland anymore. Can you imagine what would happen if all the grown-ups got in? They would make all of it very serious, and then it wouldn't be any fun at all."

Victor sighed heavily at his cousin's logic. She was right though. That has happened once at one of his mother's parties, when she had invited only a small group of friends, but then some of them invited their friends without asking, and so there ended up being a great deal more then the poor woman could take.

"I guess you're right," Victor nodded as Alice grabbed the Queen of Hearts. He held back a grin as she pulled uneasily on it, and laughed as she saw what her selection had been.

"Now you're the Old Maid!" Victor laughed triumphantly. His green eyes were aglow with joy as he watched his cousin make a sly grin.

"Better watch yourself, Victor," she replied with a wicked smile, "Or it shall be off with your head!"

"Now, now, there's no sense in that," Victor replied, still feeling quite good with his victory, "You can't go about beheading people. What is someone said off with your head? What would you do then?"

"I would say," Alice answered, pulling a few loose strands of brown hair off of her face, "That they were much too rude, and that I shan't ever play cards with them again!" Despite how upset the statement sounded, Alice had said it with such cheer that the two found themselves smiling widely. Victor was going to miss his cousin dreadfully when he left, but he knew that he could always come back when he was able, and that Alice would always be here.

She was his cousin, after all…

* * *

I'm sorry if this chapter was rather dry. I'm already working on the next one, and you'll be surprised where Victor ends up, I assure you! Well, as always, read and review! 


	6. The Oysters and the Liddell

For those of you who are purists, I'm going to say that you may not want to read this. However, a purist may also like this, because it does not replace Alice in any way! You'll see that I decided to take this in a quite different direction, and hopefully, you won't be too upset at me! As always, read and review!

* * *

"Tie down that other end, men!"

Victor blinked his eyes open slowly, his nose filling with the smells of the sea. He was laying on his back, looking up into what appeared to be the roof of a cave. His eyes were still a bit blurry from his fall, and he tried to focus them as best as possible. The moment his senses became adjusted to the dull lighting and tangy smells of the sea, however, he became aware of a most unpleasant situation.

Pressing him against what felt like wet sand were ropes, many ropes. There was one holding down his neck, his arms and wrists, his waist, his thighs, calves and ankles. He couldn't move a muscle, and as he struggled to get free, he heard frantic, but tiny, voices.

"Hold him steady! Don't let the brute get free!" "Keeps those legs down!" "Tie down the neck some more!" "No, I won't hold you responsible if anything happens!"

"What is going on?" Victor cried out to his unseen captors. His worst fears were marching into his head like the Card Guards that terrified him so. Had he been recaptured? Was he about to be executed? Where was the Cheshire Cat, and why wasn't he helping? All of his questions stopped though when he felt something land on his stomach. Fighting to lift up his head, his green eyes searched for the object, but the rope was tied too tight for him to move around. He got the answer to the riddle in the next moment.

"Stay still, Carpenter!" A tiny, but very stern voice said. Victor lifted his head as far as he could reach it when he felt something coming moving right up his chest and onto the collar of his shirt. While severly hindered by the cord, he could still get a fair look at the speaker.

There, standing on the edge of his neck, an angry glance in its beady eyes, was a large oyster. Its gray shell was cracked in several places, and it walked on two, tiny legs, though there were no feet attatched, so it looked as though it was on stilts.

"Carpenter?" Victor asked, stunned, "I'm no carpenter! Father says that that is a job for the lower classes, and that-!"

"Silence!" the oyster ordered, jumping slightly into the air. "Higgins, teach him to be quiet!" A quick pinch on his wrist shot a pain up Victor's arm, and he squirmed to get the limb free. "Hey! What was that for? That really hurt!"

"I said be quite, Carpenter!" the oyster shouted again, and Victor received another pinch, this time on his other wrist. Victor didn't open his mouth again.

"Very good," the oyster said, still rather angrily, but not quite as angrily as before. "Now, what are you doing here? No doubt collecting more oysters for the Walrus! And why are you wearing that ridiculous disguise? Anyone can see that you're the Carpenter! Your nose is tiny, your ears are large, and you have a very ugly mouth! There's no need to try and change all that, because you look just as horrible as you always have!"

Victor had never felt more insulted in all his life. "How dare you, sir?" he spat at the oyster, "Insulting me like that! Why, if I were free, I should like to chuck you into a pot, and then think how sorry you would be!" This was not the wisest thing to say, and Victor soon found that out a moment later.

"Bite him!" "Did you hear that? He still wants to cook us!" "He must be the Carpenter! Only the Carpenter would say something as stupid as that!" "I say we put HIM in a pot! Then he'd see how he liked it!" A clicking sound filled the air, as Victor realized that he was surrounded by oysters, many talking oysters, all of them ready to tear him to shreds after that statement.

"Well, that proves it!" the large oyster on Victor's shirt declared, "He is the Carpenter! I had my doubts about him at first, but now it is obvious! Bring the General at once!"

Victor struggled frantically to get free. If it wasn't one thing, its another he growled to himself as he wriggled against the cords that held him tight. "Let me go! Please, I'm not the Carpenter, and I hate seafood! I've never even eaten an oyster before!"

"I'm already here, Winston!" A voice came out over all the snapping and shouting. Instantly, the entire group fell silent, and Victor tried to see what was going on. The only thing he could guess was that "The General" had arrived, and was now thinking on what to do with Victor.

The sound of miniscule legs stepped past his ear, and Victor knew, without turning his head, that the general was inspecting him. His breath grew quicker as he tried to be brave and not think about the dozens of oysters that were possibly surrounding him, ready to snap him to pieces. After an eternal silence, a voice next to his right ear finally said, "He is not the Carpenter! Let him go!"

"But sir," the oyster on Victor's shirt, whom Victor had completely forgotten about in all the hub-bub, started.

"I said that he is not the Carpenter," the voice replied patiently, "Cut him free." The snapping sounds came again, and Victor felt the ropes loosening on him. The oyster that was standing on him jumped off, and Victor rose to a sitting position, trying to get his bearings. His head swam as the blood rushed out of it from him sitting up so fast after having been lying down for so long. Shaking his eyes clear, he looked around at his surroundings and that he was in a large cave. The air was damp, and smelled of the sea, and moisture dripped from the ceiling in various places. Looking down though, Victor saw that he was completely surrounded by oysters. They were everywhere, watching him with small, shiny eyes and bitter little faces.

"What are you doing here?" the voice of the general asked, and Victor saw the oyster, that all the others seemed to revere, looking up at him from the sand. This oyster was certainly older looking then the rest, and was much larger as well. The thing was about as big as Victor's palm, and was decorated with various symbols that looked like they had been painted on. Probably to replace the fact that they can't wear medals, Victor reasoned to himself.

"I-I'm terribly sorry," Victor replied, his voice trembling, "But I don't quite know why I'm here either. You see, I was trying to escape the Fortress of Doors-"

"The Fortress of Doors!" all the oysters cried in unison. They had all heard the tales of the place, and knew of what was said to be contained within.

"Yes," Victor nodded, "And I was taken captive and put into prison there. But then, I managed to get free, and I was looking for a way out, when I fell through a trap door. That's all I remember…"

The oysters all looked at each other, trying to decided whether or not to believe the tale. Finally, the general hopped next to Victor's hand and nudged it slightly.

"If you please," it said politely, and Victor nodded, though he didn't quite understand. Turning his hand over, thinking maybe it had been laying on something, he and every other oyster were startled when they saw the little creature hop right into Victor's palm. Victor almost jerked his hand away, but reminded himself that he was now holding someone that could have him killed at any moment.

"Now then, lift me up so that we may have a proper conversation," the oyster ordered sternly. Victor nodded again, and lifted the sea creature, who was indeed heavier then Victor originally imagined. When the two were eye level, the oyster sat down carefully in Victor's hand and stared at the large face across from his own.

"So, let us start with introductions. That is the first thing to do, you know." The oyster explained this rather quickly, for he wanted to get on with things. Still, he was a polite creature, so he wanted to make sure he minded his manners.

"My name is Victor Liddell," Victor replied quickly, "and to whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"I am Jack the Oyster, General of the Oyster Army, and sole survivor of the Great Oyster Massacre…"

"The Great Oyster Massacre?" Victor asked, without realizing how hard it may have been for the oyster to recall the tale.

"When the Walrus and the Carpenter first appeared on the scene and led away all of my siblings to be eaten…" the oyster replied, shaking his heavy head, "I told them that it was a bad time to go out walking, but the Walrus was too clever for them, and he led them all away…"

The rest of the oyster shivered at this, and Victor felt a bit of sadness welling up in his throat. "How dreadful…" he said comfortingly.

"So, ever since, we, the oysters, have been waging a war against the Tusked Menace and his wood-working cohort!" Jack spoke this with a bit of pride, and the rest of the oysters cheered to hear their leader happy again. Once the cries died down, Jack looked up at Victor. "You said your last name was Liddell, correct? The same as Alice's last name?"

"That's right!" Victor nodded, suddenly remembering his cousin. How could he have forgotten her? "I need to find her!" Victor cried, almost dropping the mollusk again. He quickly stopped and caught the creature before it fell.

"Careful now!" Jack cried as he tried to reorient himself. Once he was settled again, he looked to Victor. "If anyone would know where Alice is, it would be the Caterpillar. He knows everything about everything."

"Well then, I should go to him at once!" Victor said quickly, lowering the oyster onto the sandy bottom of the cave and rising to his feet.

"Wait!" Jack called out, and Victor turned to see the tiny animal jumping up at him. "If you are Alice's cousin, then you should be able to help us!"

"Help you?" Victor asked, surprised at the statement, "What do you mean?"

"You can help us fight off the Walrus and the Carpenter for good!" Jack said, and at this the other oysters shared a mixed feeling. Some cheered, while others hissed, or clicked their shells in doubt. Victor listened to the combined sounds, and had mixed feelings as well. He wanted to help them, he really did. But the thought of fighting and killing was one he did not like.

"But, I'm not all that great of a fighter, and I couldn't-"

"If you're related to Alice, then it shouldn't be a problem," Jack interrupted, "She is, after all, the Champion of Wonderland!"

"The Champion?" Victor asked, growing more and more confused by the minute. Alice was a champion? How could that be? She was just a girl. Granted, she was a bit strange, but normal in any other way.

"Look, I would really like to help, but I want to get home, so please, just tell me how to find the Caterpillar, so I can be on my way."

Every shell dropped as Victor said his piece. They all looked to each other with either disheartened glances, or looks of I-told-you-so. Still, Victor tried to fight the guilt in his stomach as he looked for the exit to the cavern.

"If you want to find the Caterpillar," Jack said defiantly, looking up at Victor, "Then we won't tell you where he is!"

"What! That's just selfish!" Victor spat, and found he could easily kick the little thing into a wall. This would not have been wise, so he fought back the violent urge, and calmly said, "But I need to find Alice. She could help you more then I could."

"But she isn't here," Jack replied haughtily, "So unless you want to try and find the Caterpillar all by yourself, then you'll help us…"

"But-but that's just not fair!" Victor growled, stomping his foot.

"Well neither is us having to live in fear of being eaten day in and day out!" Jack shouted back, "After all, if you faced being eaten everyday, I sure you would look for a way out, now wouldn't you?"

"Well, yes," Victor answered.

"Then there you have it!" the oyster concluded, "So it's either help us or no Caterpillar."

Victor solemnly shook his head. There was no way for him to argue with them. They held all the cards in this situation, so there was nothing he could do about it.

"What should I do…?" Victor asked quietly, resigning himself to his fate.

"So, who am I supposed to meet in the kitchen?" Victor asked again as he, Jack, and five other oysters hid behind a large stone along the beach. The water lapped up towards them lazily, and the sky overhead was hazy and dark. The smell of the sea was bitter, and it reminded Victor distinctly of the Fishing District in London. The scent of rotting fish dominated the air, and upon closer inspection of the waters of the ocean, Victor saw just that; floating in the black waters of the sea were the bodies of dead fish. It was a gruesome sight, and so Victor tried to distract himself by asking his question.

"I already told you once," Jack replied in a rather annoyed tone, "You are going to meet with our ally in the kitchen of the Walrus and the Carpenter."

"And who would that be?" Victor asked, his tone of annoyance matching the oyster's, "A lobster?" His sarcasm was overlooked by Jack, who simply rolled his black eyes before continuing.

"No, though you're close. It's the Cook."

"You're friends with a cook?" Victor repeated, laughing slightly at the irony. "Do you go over for tea time when she isn't putting you into a chowder?"

"Chowder is for clams, you tweed!" Jack shot back angrily, "And she's not just A cook. She's THE Cook. She used to work for the Duchess."

"You mean that ugly woman with the pig-baby?" Victor replied, not at all appreciating being called a tweed, though he wasn't sure it was really an insult.

"The very same," Jack nodded, his shell clicking with the motion.

"Why did she leave? Surely she enjoyed herself, throwing things at her employer?" Victor recalled Alice description of the utter chaos in the Duchess's home, and how the Cook would toss about plates and pans at the Duchess as she cradled and beat her screaming baby.

"She's working here now," Jack replied, ignoring Victor's question. "The Walrus has her cooking us now. He and the Carpenter catch us, and she cooks us up, though she does her best to let as many of us go as possible. She's been getting better at it, and we have recently only lost about 30 of our men." The other oysters who were with them shivered, their shells clacking and clicking as they let out small moans. Victor could tell that this matter was very serious, and was quickly seeing just how greatly he needed to help the mollusks in their fight.

"So, she's going to help me knock off the Walrus and the Carpenter…" Victor mumbled, "And so how do I get in to see her?"

"Use the door, of course," Jack replied, "Honestly, you are a bit dim, aren't you?"

Victor only grimaced at the insult, as looked further up the beach towards the manor of The Walrus and The Carpenter. The building itself was made entirely of wood, which was to be expected. It was actually built in a rather peculiar style, with a single-story square in the exact middle of the house. On either side of this were the two wings of the house, both about two-stories high, but neither one remotely like the other in anyway. The right end, which Victor guessed belonged to the Carpenter, was very jagged, with the pieces of wood sticking out in odd ends, boards missing here and there, and broken windows without any sort of shutters or sills at all. The only reason that Victor even guessed that it belonged to the Carpenter was because the word "cArpiNTur" was carved in big letters right across the front, from one end of the wing to the other. The other end was the exact opposite of its partner in every way. The structure was very neat and orderly, well-built, and at least tolerable to look at. The windows were all unbroken, and each one had a sill under it, carved with tiny seashells. It was painted an ugly sea-green color, but besides that, it looked like a lovely place to live. A large plaque was set into the wood in the bottom corner nearest the center of the house, and engraved on the plaque were the words, "W. Walrus Esq."

"It would seem that the Walrus live in riches while the Carpenter lives in squalor," Victor observed quietly as he walked towards the house. The cricket bat was hefted over his shoulder, its wooden paddle cleaned off after a quick wash in the sea. The oysters had confiscated it when they had first found him, as they said, "Washed up on the beach with a dead fish in his jacket pocket." They said that the Carpenter had a habit of collecting the fish off the beach when they washed up, and so that is why they mistook him for the villain.

"So, what's the plan," Victor asked as he walked closer, Jack hidden securely in his pant pocket.

"The Walrus will likely invite you in to dine," Jack replied, "He sells the oysters he doesn't eat to anyone who stops by. Of course, he keeps the best for himself."

"And what of the Carpenter?" Victor asked, looking once again at the dilapidated portion of the manner.

"He eats as many as he can get his hands on. It is he who doesn't even wait for them to be cooked, so it is he we fear more out of the two."

"So, how do I get to see the Cook? I'm sure she is in some back room, busy over dinner, right?"

"Actually, that is the kitchen right there in the middle. You just ring the bell and go in."

Victor stopped and stared in silence that building before him. He had walked right up to the front door during their conversation, and now stood uneasily in front of the building. The smell of the sea was still just as potent as ever, but now, something else was wafting into the nervous young man's nostrils.

The smell of pepper.

"Go on, don't stand there like that! Ring the bell!" Jack gave the order impatiently from Victor's pocket as Victor stood there, wondering what to do next. In all honesty, he really didn't want to do this. After all, he would end up having to kill someone again, if he went through with what the oysters wanted him to do. Still, he couldn't find Alice until the deed was done, so, giving the cricket bat's handle a confidence-building squeeze, he reached up and pulled on the bell string.

Somewhere, deep inside the house, the sound of an enormous gong echoed, and it felt like the earth was shaking under Victor's feet as it reverberated through the air. A moment later, the door opened, and before Victor stood The Walrus.

The Walrus was very large, larger then Victor had imagined. Its tusks were almost covered by its fat, drooping lips. Its body was sagging with blubber, so it looked like it was melting. How it was able to stand at all was beyond Victor, but it extended its heavy flipper to Victor as it gretted him, each word accompanied by a sloppy lisp and a blast of fishy breath.

"Good day to yous! And how are yous on thish fine day?" Victor tried not to gag from the horrible air being blown on his face, combined with spittle flying from the sea-creature's mouth as he spoke. With a shakey hand, Victor accepted the flipper and shook it quickly, before letting go just as quickly.

"Just fine, sir," Victor replied, "I'm here to-"

"I knows why you'resh here," The Walrus interrupted, "Yous are here to dine on the delicioush oysthers! Come in my young friend! Yoush have sutch great tasthe!"

Before he could even respond, Victor was being pulled into the house and seated in a chair in the front room. A large door sat across from the front entrance, and Victor guessed that that was where the kitchen was.

"Carpether! Carpenther! Wesh hash a guesht!" the enormous animal called out. A moment later, the door leading to the Carpenter's side of the house burst open to reveal a dreadful sight. The Caprenter certainly looked nowhere near as well-fed as the Walrus, for his skin was hanging on almost nothing but bones. His hair was thinning, and bald patches revealed themselves here and there from under his torn, paper hat. His eyes were sagging and dark, their bloodshot whites dotted by his empty and crazed pupils, and were framed by dark circles. He looked at The Walrus with a bitter glare before letting out a screechy cry.

"Tell the Cook that sheth needs to preparth the oysthers for a dinner!" With that, the Walrus turned and walked back into his side of the house as the Carpenter snarled at Victor. Victor slid down in his chair under the gaze of the insane Carpenter, unsure of whether to feel sorry or not for the poor man. The Carpenter stumbled over to the door leading to the kitchen, opened it, and squealed out, "Oysssters!" before walking back onto his side of the house. When his door was shut, Victor took a deep breath, thoroughly shaken by the proceedings. He had not realized that he had been holding his breath during his short conversation with the Walrus and the Carpenter, though there certainly was good reason to, considering the smell. He tried to gather his thoughts for a moment as he stood up and walked towards the door of the kitchen. With each step he took, the scent of pepper in the air began to grow heavier, and Victor felt the potent spice burning his nostrils as he drew closer to his destination. Finally, as he pushed open the door to the cooking area, a sneeze rushed out of his nose as he was hit with a cloud of the seasoning. His eyes watering as he walked into the room, he covered his nose as best as possible, but found that was a waste, for several more sneezes escaped him.

"More pepper!" he heard a harsh scream burst through the room. "More pepper!"

"That's the Cook!" Jack called out from Victor's pocket, seeming to be unaffected by the pepper in the air.

"Excuse me madam!" Victor shouted over her screaming, still unable to see her anyway from how badly his eyes were watering. Finally, the cloud of pepper seemed to part, and Victor was finally able to see the Cook clearly.

She was a tall woman, taller then Victor, and had a very pointed nose that she gazed down at Victor from behind as she turned around to regard him. She looked as skinny as the Carpenter, though she may have had a bit more meat on her bones then the crazed builder had. Her sunken cheeks looked as though she was sucking in and holding her breath, but when she let out another ear-piecing cry, Victor knew that that was not the case.

"More pepper!" she screeched, waving a pepper box around wildly. The spice filled the air, and Victor found himself sneezing almost uncontrollably under the cloud.

"Please," he said, when he finally got his sneezes under control, "I was told you could help me defeat the Walrus and the Carpenter! Please, tell me how so I can get out of here!"

The Cook said nothing at first, but looked Victor up and down. Victor saw theis as a chance to go further in his explanation. "I want to help the oysters," he said quickly, "But I need to know how to beat the Walrus and the Carpenter. Is there someway to do that?"

"Pepper, mostly," the Cook replied curtly, turning back to the large pot she was stirring. Victor at first wondered what on earth could require so much pepper, but then decided that he didn't want to know, for fear of it being a group of hapless oysters, or worse.

"What in heaven's name does she mean?" Victor asked, glancing down at his pocket towards the oyster hidden within.

"She means to say that you can defeat them using pepper," Jack replied, "Weren't you listening? She was speaking rather plainly."

"All I heard was-!"

"Pepper!" the Cook shouted again, tossing the pepper box into the air. The spice container tumbled through the air above Victor's head, before dropping down at his feet. Rubbing his eyes to try and get rid of the burning sensation in them again, Victor reached down and picked up the shaker, placing the cricket bat on the floor for a moment. The pepper box was made pewter, or at least looked like it, and was engraved with a fancy "P" on the front. The hole for shaking out the spice were very wide, and so Victor understood how so much was able to come out at once. Still, what he didn't understand is how the shaker, which was as tall as Jack, and as thick school child's inkwell, could possibly hold as much pepper as it apparently did.

"So, how am I to go about getting rid of this Walrus and Carpenter, exactly…" he asked himself, as he looked up again at the Cook. Her thin face held a wily grin, and her nose sniffed in a very triumphant and haughty manner.

"With pepper, mostly…" she replied.


End file.
